


Just Next Door

by IndilwenofMirkwood



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel
Genre: Angst, Bakery AU, F/M, Melinda May as Skye's Mother, Phil Coulson POV, Relationship Issues, Romance, Slow Burn, Young Skye, rated for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4018756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndilwenofMirkwood/pseuds/IndilwenofMirkwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his bakery getting rave reviews and his business soaring, Phil Coulson's life is finally coming together like he'd always imagined. However, after settling into his new apartment, he becomes immediately captivated by his beautiful neighbor and her adorable little girl, muddying the waters and distorting the clear image he'd once had of his future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was a random idea of mine that I couldn't let go. I really had no other reason to write this, other then my own desire to show Phil Coulson falling adorably in love with Melinda May and a little Skye. From what I've seen, there are very few times where Phil isn't the single father and I just really wanted to show the other side, because, come on, Dad!Phil is the cutest thing ever.
> 
> To sym-posts, my lovely beta, you rock!

If there was one thing Phil Coulson hated with a passion, it was moving. Something about the multitude of boxes scattered about the floor, the general pain of packing and unpacking that always drove him mad, and then, just as soon as he thought he'd finished, he'd find some random knick-knack or forgotten dish in the back of a cabinet, that hadn't seen the light of day in years, and he'd groan at the unfairness of it all.

He sighed, thoroughly relieved as he dropped the last box of books onto a low pile in the foyer of his new apartment before stretching his stiff back, wincing at the knot that had formed between his shoulders. A hiss, however, had him jumping for the still open door and scrambling to catch the flash of orange that had passed through his feet in a dash to escape.

“No, no, you can't do that. You have to stay in here,” he cooed gently at the ball of fur in his arms as he kicked the door closed. “I know you don't want to, but you'll get used to the new place, I promise.”

The orange tabby had been a constant companion of his since he'd opened the door to his old apartment a few months back and found the tiny thing mewling pitifully in the rain, it's striped coat soaked and matted with mud as it shivered uncontrollably on his front steps. Unable to leave it, he'd taken it in and cleaned it up, and before the night was over, the tiny fuzzball had wormed its way into his heart and had claimed a permanent spot at his side.

Of course, the damn thing wasn't so tiny anymore and could eat him out of house and home, but that was neither here nor there, Phil thought with a wry grin. He stroked the tabby's fur, until the cat let out a contented purr, before he set the gentle beast back on its feet and watched as it hopped into an empty box.

He turned back to his books, determined to, at least, fill the bookshelves before he pulled out his pots and pans to make dinner and so he opened box after box, pulling out well-worn paperbacks until the built-in shelves were decorated with the colorful spines of his most cherished novels. He discarded the box only for a blur of fur to crash into the cardboard and he chuckled at the cat's playfulness, shaking his head in amusement.

“Alright, buddy, what do we want for dinner?”

On cue, the tabby's head popped out of the box, a garbled meow his only answer as he watched Phil through lazily blinking eyes.

“What about chicken?”

He heard rustling from inside the box, before the tabby jumped from it like a rocket and padded into the kitchen to take up residence on a stool at the counter, his master's laughter following behind.

Phil settled into his usual routine, the pattern only disrupted by boxes in inconvenient places and a series of interruptions from a tiny orange paw coming a bit too far across the counter, to which he swatted at gently between stirs of boiling pasta, in an effort to reinforce his furry charge.

They ate in companionable silence before Phil went back to his boxes, searching for his rather large collection of Blu-rays. It took nearly an hour for him to locate all the right cords and even longer until they were hooked up to his television set correctly.

He practically fell onto the sofa, his exhaustion finally catching up with him as it rolled around to the eight o'clock hour. Phil grinned as his tabby jumped in his lap to curl up and he waited until the cat was settled before he flicked on the television and hit play. The opening tones to Skyfall were familiar, but the song had barely ended before his eyes were closing against the bright glare of TV.

* * *

 

Some hours later, he woke, body twisted in a cramped position and he groaned wearily as his back cracked uncomfortably.

Slowly, he became aware of a warm pressure on his chest and blinking into the dimly lit room, he was met with the sight of Cap, his green eyes watching his master's movements intently. It only took a few more seconds of their stare off for the cat to cave, an orange paw reaching out gently to tap against the tip of Phil's nose before he retracted it again.

Phil glared halfheartedly, but easily succumbed to the lethargy that still clung to him, his eyes slipping closed, and just before he fell into unconsciousness again, there was a harder tap, sharp claws just barely peeking out to scrape against the soft skin at his jaw.

“Go away,” he ordered to no avail as the taps continued periodically.

He was just a second away from shoving the cat off of him and onto the floor, but the beast was saved in the nick of time when his phone rang, the display blinding him slightly as it lit up to reveal the name of one of his employees.

“Clint?” he mumbled as he picked up the ringing device, confusion lacing his tone. It was unusual that there was ever a problem in his bakery and phone calls this early didn't bode well.

“Hey, boss man. You alright?”

“Yeah, Clint. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it's after noon and you've yet to show your pretty face?”

As if he'd been doused with freezing water, he bolted upright, dislodging the feline rather unceremoniously and he groaned at the face on the clock.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” Clint commiserated with a dry chuckle. “You comin' in today? Or would you like me to push your sister's appointment back a few hours just to mess with her? I could always accidentally make the opposite of her bride's order again. I've heard that this one has a particular piece of hardware stuck in a very uncomfortable place, if you know what I mean.”

As thoroughly amusing as the idea was, Pepper was a force to be reckoned with when riled up and he'd watched that situation play out in many interesting and painful ways over the years. It really was a shame that his staff enjoyed messing with her so much, but Phil had a suspicion that Pepper secretly enjoyed the challenge—and the attention.

“Now Clinton, what have I told you about messing with customers?”

The was a pause on the end of the line and Phil could only guess at what ridiculous incidents were passing through the younger man's mind.

“Which time?”

Phil rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. “Just give me an hour and I'll be there, alright? Start them off with the brochures and a list of our prices and go from there, okay?”

“You got it, boss. See you soon.”

Tossing the phone onto the cushion beside him, he stretched, working his muscles that had grown stiff from the uncomfortable position he'd been sleeping in on the sofa. He showered quickly before dressing in his usual black slacks and white button up shirt combination, selecting a brightly colored blue tie off the back of his closet door and knotting it perfectly as he headed towards the kitchen.

Cap was no where to be found, but he swapped out the stale cat food from the night before and freshened up his water bowl, before quickly opening the door, shutting it behind him as fast as he could manage in the hopes that Cap wouldn't attempt another escape, but the coast was clear for now.

The taxi ride was, thankfully, uneventful and, sparing a glance at his watch, he arrived with barely five minutes to spare before his meeting. Upon entering the double doors, Phil made a beeline for his office, stopping only to greet Natasha and Bobbi who stood behind the counter, handling an order from a dark haired woman and the bouncy little girl at her side.

His bakery was a source of pride in his life, with it's old-fashioned charm and vintage fixtures. Sweetie's had once been a pub and during the remodeling phase, he'd decided to keep the industrial vibe that came with the stainless steel piping overhead and the dark, natural wood. Of course, he'd added color here and there, to liven the place up a bit, which Pepper had been extremely grateful for, but his favorite item among all of his renovations—was the logo. His mother had been adamant that his bakery be his, in both the design and in the pastries that left his door, but after some time, he'd finally convinced her to put her own creative mark on his place. For months, he'd waited, until one day, just two weeks before opening day, she walked in with six large buckets full of sea-glass and then, for forty-eight hours, his mother had kicked him out without a word.

Even now, the beautiful mosaic behind his front counter still captivated him with its dark indigo and crimson pieces, interspersed with a milky white, and he smiled at his mother's hidden nod to his favorite comic book character.

His smile remained on his face all the way up to his office, only to disappear at the sight of his sister perched in front of his desk.

“Aren't you supposed to be downstairs with your client?” he asked, eyeing her warily. He loved his sister dearly and normally, they got along famously, but Pepper was cunning, ruthless even, when it came to business.

“Oh, they didn't tell you?” she answered sweetly, with just a hint too much sugar, and her grin merely turned smug at his confusion. “I told my client to be here at two and then I locked in a one thirty appointment with you to give you some leeway.”

“What?” he blinked.

“I know how you get when you're exhausted and I knew that after moving, you'd crash hard, as you always do, so to save your ass, I lied.” She shrugged as if it was nothing, but there was a spark in her eyes that said he'd pay for her kindness later.

“Well, thank you, but as you can see, I still have two minutes to spare before your fake one-thirty time slot. Technically, I'm not late.”

“Yes, but only because you've left your brochures and samples in the care of Clint, which honestly makes me question your sanity.”

Phil frowned at her assessment. “Clint is young, but he knows what to do and despite his playfulness, he's professional when he needs to be. Say what you will, but it's a wedding cake order and no one here has an eye for detail like that kid does. Hell, that's why I hired him. He's got the eyes of a hawk.”

Pepper smiled. “Then what's your excuse for Hunter?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “He was an accident, but Bobbi keeps him in line.”

“I'm not quite sure how she does it,” she laughed lightly.

“Oh, come on, it can't be much different that putting up with Tony Stark,” he replied, eyes fixed on his sister's face as she blushed. To her credit, Pepper tried to play it off, but a grin crept onto her face anyways.

“We are not discussing my love life, Philip,” she declared in mock seriousness before switching gears completely. “Now, back to business. Are all of the samples prepared and ready to go? Miss Kane has a dress fitting at four.”

“I've heard this one's a bit of a hell-beast.”

She glared pointedly. “And you've been spending way too much time with your employees.”

He stopped on the way to his desk chair, thinking it over before continuing on. “Yeah, probably.”

“Besides, how could you possibly know that?”

“It's a running theme, unfortunately. I'm afraid it comes with the job.”

He laughed when she threw a pen at him, hitting him square in the chest. “But yes, your precious samples that she requested are finished. One vanilla sponge cake with a french buttercream and raspberry filling, one Devil's food cake with a salted caramel ganache, and a similar version with a strawberry filling instead. Oh, and we can't forget the banana cream with a marzipan glaze. All she has to do is decided which one and tell me how many people are attending.”

The grin that spread across Pepper's face was alarmingly wicked and after two hours, one vanilla sponge cake with a mixed berry ganache--that wasn't even on his menu--and a postponed dress fitting later, he was relieved when his sister finally called a cab to end his torment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review, please, and tell me what you think! Let me know if you guys want more!


	2. The Girls Next Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! I'm still trying to set up the story, but two very important people make an appearance in this one. I hope you guys enjoy! =D

It had taken him nearly a week to get his apartment just the way he desired, with all of his belongings placed carefully into their rightful places, with his photos hung neatly among his Captain America artwork and figurines, and his kitchen in the perfect working order that he'd become so accustomed to over his years as a chef.

The day before had been long, his entire afternoon ruined by a rogue, dysfunctional mixer that he'd nicknamed Ultron, and all afternoon he'd looked forward to curling up with an unread novel, grilling up a nice, cheesy panini, and heading to bed early to make up for the lack of sleep that came with the new, unfamiliar surroundings. However, his two-bedroom condo, with it's rustic brick walls and it's antique fixtures, had slowly begun to feel like home and he'd finally begun to sleep well again.

Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for Cap, who had remained jumpy and anxious for the entirety of those seven days. The poor thing had always been a nervous animal, though Phil chalked that up to his beginning life as a stray at such a vulnerable age, as Cap had always been uncomfortable around strangers and unfamiliar places; even Phil's girlfriend Audrey couldn't pet him and they'd been dating for nearly four months now.

Phil yawned as he walked to his door slowly with the mail in hand, his steps unconsciously taken, as the path was already drilled into his currently distracted mind despite his short stay there. He had just managed to unlock the door when he was wrenched from his thoughts as he pushed the door open, the sound of a viciously jingling bell putting him on instant alert—for as soon as the door was opened wide enough, his poor tabby wriggled through the gap between the door and the frame and then bolted down the hall in a blur of fur and fretfulness.

“Damn it! Come back here!” he yelled, today's post falling from his fingers without conscious thought to land on the carpet at his feet.

He took the stairs two at a time, bounding across the landing and nearly crashing into an elderly woman, his momentum sending him painfully into the wall in an effort to avoid her; he apologized profusely to her annoyed grumblings as he went, but he didn't stop.

Cap was a ghost and Phil lost sight of him more than once on his way down the thankfully uncrowded stairwell as they made their way down passed the third and second floors.

It was four floors down, in the lobby of his building that the chase finally ended, the cat's progress halted just a few feet from the revolving door that led straight to the busy street beyond.

“Stop him, please!”

His raised, panicked voice managed to catch the attention of a small girl, around the age of five or so, and as if realizing what and whom he meant, she frantically reached for the escaping cat and scooped him up into her tiny hands, holding tight to the struggling bundle of fluff.

“Oh god, thank you,” he breathed as he came to a relieved stop in front of the little girl. Phil was incredibly concerned that she might get scratched, but as he panted, he watched as his normally frightened cat calmed before his eyes and _relaxed_ , his confusion at such a sight merely growing as Cap _licked_ the little girl's chin, causing her to giggle. There was no sign of discomfort, no hair standing on end as if he'd been struck by lightning, and Phil took note of the way his cat had stopped in his effort to get away.

As his heart slowed back to a normal rate, he suddenly became aware of the state he was in, as the general sounds of a normal afternoon started to drift into his ears, and he could only guess at what a sight he made with his bed-head, his Captain American t-shirt, and his heavy panting from the unexpected, early morning run he'd just been forced to take, but it was the woman that entered just after that made him feel truly embarrassed.

She was beautiful, extremely so, but in such an unassuming way, that it made him wonder if she truly knew just how exquisite she was with her dark brown, nearly black hair and a pair of dark eyes to match. This woman was tiny and yet, somehow he was perfectly aware that her looks were meant to be deceiving as there was a quiet strength about her presence that was unmistakable, even to a stranger like him. She fixed her eyes upon him, a playful, amused glint shining through as she looked at him in all his disheveled, patriotic glory and he was suddenly filled with regret at his decision to leave his apartment in his old, beloved pajamas and in an effort to preserve some shred of his dignity, he smoothed his hair down quickly and pushed his glasses back onto his nose from where they'd slipped.

“Skye, who do you have there?”

The little girl—Skye—looked confused for a moment, before her attention returned to the strangely calm animal in her arms. “I don't know his name, mommy, but he's fat.”

Phil couldn't help but chuckle at the girl's blunt, but accurate assessment as she adjusted the cat in her arms.“I'm afraid Cap's a bit of a pig.”

There was an abrupt, snort of laughter that, to her credit, the older woman tried to tamp down, but he couldn't stop the heat that rushed to his cheeks as his head snapped in her direction.

“Is Cap's last name Rogers?” the woman asked, smiling at him in a way that he couldn't help but return as her gaze flickered down to the large red, white, and blue shield adorning his t-shirt.

_'Oh god, I'm such an idiot. Why did I name him that?'_

To his surprise, the little girl piped up excitedly, “Like Captain America, mommy?”

“No, unfortunately it's not,” he replied, smiling at them both in embarrassed amusement, but he took the hint and introduced himself, extending his hand out to her in greeting. “Phil Coulson.”

“Melinda May,” she answered, before motioning towards her daughter. “And this is Skye.”

“Hi! I like your kitty.”

He knelt down to her level, shaking the tiny hand she offered and grasping it gently between his much larger fingers, smiling as she shook it with all the seriousness she could muster while balancing a fluffy feline in her arms. “Do you now? He seems to like you too,” he told her, reaching out to stroke the cat that was still happily purring away in the little girls arms. “He doesn't take too well to strangers, but it seems he's made an exception. I suppose the next time he escapes, I'll know just who to get to help me catch him.”

Skye giggled adorably before passing him the cat and once the purring bundle was transferred successfully, he stood, only to meet the soft, warm gaze of her mother. She glanced away quickly and clearing her throat, she motioned Skye towards the elevators and he watched as the girl skipped happily up to the control pad to hit the top-most arrow.

“You're the new guy in 402, right?”

“Yeah, I just moved in this past Monday. I finally managed to save up enough to afford a bigger place, but I'm afraid that this one here,” he expressed fondly, referring to the purring cat in his arms, “is still a bit uncomfortable with the move. I probably should have kept an empty box or two that he could hide out in until he got used to the place, but I guess a runaway feline is good way to meet your neighbors.”

Melinda smirked, the corner of her lips curving upwards slightly. “Well, I suppose it's better than the usual 'can I borrow some sugar?'. I never would have used the method myself, but it certainly leaves an impression.”

“A good one, I hope.”

He wasn't exactly sure what had made him ask, the banter between them almost familiar despite having just met, but he had this sudden need to impress her. The glint in her eyes turned delightfully devious, her smirk only growing larger as she turned towards the opening elevator door. “Well, Cap is definitely a character.”

Phil grinned, surprise flooding his features at her good-natured teasing.

He followed them inside, pleased to find that the only button lit up was four, the same floor he lived on.

“What do you do?”

He was momentarily thrown off at the realization that the question had come from Skye and not her mother as the girl eyed his pajamas quizzically, but he shouldn't have been, as he could see the spark of curiosity and intelligence swirling in her bright, happy eyes as she stared up at him.

“I actually own a bakery on the North End of town. I work with sweets like cakes and cookies.”

“With sprinkles?” Skye asked excitedly, and at his nod her grin grew wide, causing him to laugh. “Yummy.”

“You're a chef?” Melinda inquired, her hand reaching out to pet the animal in his arms, the fur just above the bridge of Cap's nose her target, and the cat let out a satisfied purr as she kneaded it firmly.

“Pastry chef, yeah,” he admitted with a shrug, watching as his cat softened to the two women in the elevator—faster than he ever had to anyone else. “I did my fair share of rounds as a restaurant line-cook, but it lacked the sort of creative freedom I was looking for. And I've always had a bit of a sweet tooth, so I said, 'why not?' and so I opened a little store on Hanover.”

Much to his cat's displeasure, her fingers fell from his fur as her gaze returned to Phil's. “Hanover? You own _Sweetie's_?”

He nodded. “You know of it?”

“Know of it?” she asked, chuckling.“On a regular basis, I spend a small fortune on your lemon-creme cupcakes and I ordered Skye's birthday cake from there last year.”

“Oh really?” Phil grinned, briefly wondering if that was why Melinda May looked so familiar. Turning to the little girl who was now watching the two of them intently, he asked, “And what kind do you like?”

“Chocolate!” she exclaimed, in the enthusiastic way only a child could master, which caused both of the adults to grin as the door dinged once again, signaling that they'd arrived on their floor.

“With sprinkles?” he asked, delighted by such an innocent, beautiful show of child-like anticipation, smiling at her as she nodded enthusiastically, her mouth set wide in a toothy grin. “I'll have to keep that in mind then,” he answered, watching the little girl as she hopped in place in her excitement, her curls bouncing right along with her.

They walked in silence to their apartments, which just happened to be across from each other and as Melinda unlocked her door, he got just a glimpse of her mint green wallpaper as it swung open, but his attention to her was diverted by the tiny bundle of energy masquerading as the child in front of him.

“Bye, Cap!” she yelled happily, stroking the cats chin, before bounding towards her mother, calling over her shoulder as she went. “Bye, Phil!”

And just like that, before he could even call out a goodbye, she disappeared behind the door in a rush of displaced air and child-like frenzy, her mother watching her go with a fond smile.

“Sorry, she can be a bit of a handful.”

“It's alright,” he chuckled, “She's rather adorable. I only wish I had as much energy as she does.”

“You and me both,” Melinda chuckled, holding out her hand for him to take. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Coul--”

“Please, call me Phil,” he interrupted gently, soft smile upon his lips which she returned. “I like to think I'm still too young for titles that remind me of my father.”

“Only if you call me Melinda,” she suggested before a wicked gleam sprung into her eyes as she considered his previous comment. “Is that why you're still in your pajamas at noon? To recapture your youth?”

He might have been offended had it not been for the sly grin on her face, but even so, he knew he was blushing.

“Don't worry, Phil. I won't tell a soul. Besides, the shield...?” she mumbled as she slipped inside her apartment, pointing to his t-shirt as he continued to stare at her “It suits you.”

Her amused grin was the last thing he saw before the door shut behind her and for a moment, he just stared at it, a light, happy sort of warmth growing in his chest, but before he could analyze it, he was brought out of his thoughts by the feline in his arms, as Cap proceeded to tap at his chin for attention. For a moment, Phil simply smiled, fingers toying with the fur at the crown of his head before his eyes drifted back across the hall.

“Well, buddy, maybe moving isn't the worst thing after all,” he mumbled, blue eyes fixed on the dark green door numbered 403. “I think we just made some friends.”

Cap meowed in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! Let me know what you think!


	3. Unforeseen and Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to apologize to everyone who's been waiting on me to update. Some things have happened in my personal life, but I've finally had some time to write. This chapter isn't exactly how I imagined it, but it's finally done! I hope you guys like it.

It was a sight to watch her play, to watch her skillful fingers tease a myriad of beautiful notes out of the instrument with one hand gripping the bow tightly between her fingers and the other laid carefully upon the strings. Her whole body was moving with the music as she swayed into every crescendo and he watched, mesmerized by the movement as much as the melancholy tune she played so perfectly.

He'd heard this particular piece many times over the past three months, the first movement of Elgar's Cello Concerto like a siren song, the haunting melody drawing him in as if he was doomed to drown with each change in pitch.

The piece was serene, much like its current master, though she was livelier than the song gave her credit for, the only tell-tale sign of her true nature hidden well within the practiced grace of her movements as she played it from memory.

As the last note came to a close, he stood, along with the rest of those in attendance, clapping enthusiastically as the Boston Philharmonic took their well-earned bows.

Phil smiled from his usual, second-floor balcony seat as her eyes sought him out in the crowd, beaming at him as she filtered off the stage with the rest of her section as the applause continued. He waited patiently for her near the door labeled “personnel only”, whistling the familiar, memorized tune in his own little version of an encore as she changed backstage. The song halted, however, when his phone buzzed to life in his pocket with an unknown number on display.

Frowning, he answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, my name is Dr. Johnson with Miriam Hospital in Providence, Rhode Island. Is this a Mr. Philip Coulson?”

His stomach dropped at the mention of his mother's home state. “Yes, may I help you?”

“Unfortunately, this evening, your mother, Julie, was involved in an accident--”

He didn't see Audrey approach, but out of his periphery he saw her flinch at the panic growing in his voice. “Is she okay?”

“Yes, sir, she's doing fine. From what I understand, there was an electrical fire that started while she was sleeping. She's suffering from smoke inhalation which comes with some shortness of breath, but everything else is rather minor. She mentioned that you live in Boston, is that correct?

“Yes, yes, that's right,” he replied, his fingers rubbing the skin between his eyes as he fought the sudden headache that threatened to take hold as his pulse ratcheted up a notch, “but I'll be on the next flight out. Could I talk to her?”

“Yes, I can arrange that. Just give me one moment.”

He mumbled out a 'thank you' before he was put on hold and he was grateful for the hand on his shoulder that promised a steadfast support, but before he could relay that message to her, he was startled by a groggy voice as it came through the speakers.

“Phil, h-honey, is that you?”

Her voice was an instant balm to his frayed nerves, but it was raspy and cracking and so very different from her usual soothing tones that he'd normally associate with his mother. “Mom, are you okay? What happened?”

“Oh, I'm alright. Just a bit banged up is all,” she wheezed and he could hear her deep breaths through the receiver as she spoke. “I'm afraid the house is a bit damaged.”

A humorless chuckle escaped him and he blinked away the stinging in his eyes. “I don't care about the house.”

Her reply was cut off by a wince of pain and a wracking coughing fit and a wave of panic washed over him. “Mom?”

“I'll be f-fine,” she replied quietly and he could just picture the way she'd be waving her arm as if to brush away his concern. “There's just no moisture in the air.”

“You're a terrible liar,” he commented dryly and he smiled at the low chuckle that left her. “I'm coming to see you. I'll be there by the time you wake up tomorrow.”

“I'm not even going to try an argue,” she huffed out with her signature, overly dramatic sigh which was both equal parts annoyance and amusement that he'd somehow inherited.

“Good. I'll see you soon,” he promised. “I love you.”

He could hear her grin and knew that, though he couldn't see it, she was smiling as she replied. “I love you, too.”

Hanging up, he turned to meet Audrey's concerned eyes. She'd changed after her performance, her black blouse and skirt having been switched to a navy blue cocktail dress for their usual dinner reservations at the Richmond—that he'd be missing, it seemed.

“Audrey--”

“Is your mother okay?”

Phil nodded, but he could feel the guilt creeping up his spine as he stared at her. “I'm afraid that I have to go.”

“I figured as much,” she grinned, running her hands up his arms in a show of comfort. “Then go. The rest of the ensemble have been trying to get me to have a night out with them, so it's alright. I'll be fine here,” she reassured and he knew that she was simply trying to alleviate his uneasiness as best she could.

Placing a quick kiss on her cheek, he apologized before leaving, dialing Pepper's number as he walked out of the building. He hailed a cab and directed it towards his apartment while explaining the situation to his sister, trying to relay what he knew without upsetting her, though there was little chance of that. He was on edge and, like he'd expected, she picked up on it immediately.

Hanging up the phone, he hopped out of the cab, paying the driver quickly before he jogged up the stairs as he was too fidgety to wait for the elevator. Logically, he was aware that his mother was likely fine, which had been confirmed by the sound of her voice and her doctor herself, but his emotions were far from calm and he was quite certain that they would remain unstable until he'd stepped foot into his mother's hospital room.

Throwing a random mixture of clothes in a bag and grabbing his toothbrush and a few other items, he was done packing for the unexpected trip in record time, but it was only when he heard a tiny, garbled meow, that he stopped. _Cap_.

The poor thing was looking at him, eyes blinking slowly as he watched his master run about frantically.

“What do I do with you, buddy?” he whispered to himself, trying to come up with a suitable alternative. He could ask Clint or Bobbi, but they'd already have to man the store while he was gone, Audrey was leaving for a performance in New York in the morning, and his mother, well, she was out of commission for the time being.

All of his usual options disqualified, his mind drifted to the little girl and her mother across the hall and of the way his cat had softened completely to the both of them. He and Melinda had spoken multiple times now and little Skye always asked about Cap when they passed in the halls, but it was already after nine in the evening and most likely, they'd have settled down for the night. Melinda, he knew, was up early during the week, as when he got up to head to the bakery at six in the morning, she was already awake, bright eyed and looking well-rested, but he was running low on options.

Dropping his hastily packed bags by the door, he stepped out into the hall and knocked lightly on her door, hoping she'd forgive him for the disturbance. For nearly a minute, he heard nothing and just when he was about to give up, he heard the lock turn and the door swung open.

Melinda looked as laid back as he'd ever seen her in a pair of yellow and gray plaid sleep shorts—that showed off her lean, gorgeous legs—and a tank top with her hair falling softly around her shoulders and a wine glass gripped lightly between her fingers.

“Well, that's certainly a better look than the pajamas when we met.”

Her words brought him out of his musings as his eyes snapped up to hers. That half-smirk he now associated with her blossomed on her face as he looked down at the suit he'd donned for Audrey's performance. He wanted to smile at her comment, but he found it too difficult, and seconds later, her grin fell.

“Phil? Is something wrong?”

She was watching him closely, kind and open, but calculatingly—knowingly.

“Uh, there was a fire at my mother's home in Rhode Island and I have to go,” he mumbled, looking at his watch distractedly.

He watched as concern grew on her features, her beautiful eyes widening as she listened. “Oh no. Is she alright?”

“Her doctor says it's minor, that she has some shortness of breath, but I--”

“But you need to see her with your own eyes.”

The relief that swept over him at her words was substantial, the knowledge that someone understood was enough to begin chipping away at the heavy weight that now rested on his shoulders.

“Are _you_ alright?”

He nodded quickly, surprised at her question as her eyes softened and he smiled weakly at her kind concern. “I will be. Since my dad died when I was a kid, my mom, my sister, and I, have always been really close, but when it was time for Pep and I to head out on our own, my mom couldn't bear my dad's hometown in Wisconsin, so she moved back home to Rhode Island. Too many memories, I suppose. And I--”

Phil stopped abruptly, unsure as to why he was telling her this, but the words had tumbled out heedlessly and without warning. He swallowed heavily, ending his current topic of discussion before switching back to his reason for disturbing her in the first place, though she'd seemed to be unaffected by his rambling and his appearance at her doorstep.

“I've already exhausted my other options and if I had another I wouldn't ask this of you, but there's no one else--”

“You want me to watch Cap,” she replied bluntly, though not unkindly.

He gave her a sheepish grin. “He's calm around you and Skye and, though I don't know why, I'm not comfortable leaving him anywhere else. I don't have time to board him and to do so, I'd have to wait until morning and I--”

She nodded, holding up her hands in a gesture for him to stop.“Okay.”

“Okay?” he asked, entirely thrown off balance. He'd expected her to need convincing, her easy acquiescence leaving him confused, but she merely nodded, brushing off his doubt. “T-thank you.”

He wasn't exactly sure as to why she'd agreed, as Melinda May and little Skye seemed to keep to themselves; in the few weeks he'd lived across the hall, he'd never seen or heard another soul enter the apartment, other than the two of them, and though neither she nor her daughter seemed uncomfortable in the company of others, there was an impenetrable layer of privacy about them. And yet, here she was, opening her home to her dorky neighbor's cat and asking for nothing in return.

Wordlessly, she closed her door and crossed the hall towards his apartment and he scrambled to open the door for her in his dazed confusion. She said nothing as he grabbed everything they'd need, transferring the necessary items across the hall while she gazed around his apartment and he just barely caught the ghost of a smile on her face as his Captain America memorabilia came into view.

They found Cap easily enough and he watched as Melinda began clicking her tongue lightly, urging the perplexed cat to her. Phil chuckled as the cat bounded forwards off the pillow he'd been lounging on at her summons, obviously remembering the woman, though Phil found it difficult to believe that anyone could ever forget her, animal or otherwise.

Satisfied that they'd grabbed everything the cat might need, Melinda carried Cap across the hall and through her door, the feline obviously content to remain in her arms as he purred away, making no move to dash down the stairs in another hair-brained attempt to escape, much to his and Melinda's relief.

Her apartment was decidedly feminine, with its mint green walls and well-worn furniture, but the place was homey in a way that his was suddenly lacking. It was comfortable in its earthy colors and its touches of love, like the carefully drawn pictures in crayon that adorned her icebox, accompanied by the pictures of the smiling, happy little family the two of them made and had he had more time, he might have perused them to satisfy his unlimited curiosity, but as it was, he simply didn't have the time and so he contented himself with the brief look about the room.

“I'm so sorry to leave you with this. You, honestly, have no idea how grateful I am.”

Melinda smiled, rolling her eyes. “Well, when Skye starts begging me for a kitty, you'll have to let me borrow yours from time to time.”

He laughed at her comment. “Done. It's the least I can do. I mean, I don't even know how long I'll be gone. Are you sure it's fine?”

“Yes, Phil, I'm sure. I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't. Besides, Skye will be elated and Cap looks like he's already made himself feel at home.”

Her words made him glance about, searching for the topic of their conversation and, sure enough, Cap had planted himself firmly upon the couch, his entire body resting comfortably on a burgundy colored throw blanket, blinking at them calmly as if he hadn't just been completely and temporarily uprooted.

Phil grumbled. “Traitor.”


	4. Fast Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to apologize for taking so long to update. It's been a crazy couple of weeks, but as always, I hope you guys enjoy.

His mother's house on Mount Hope was a beautiful, pale yellow structure, with a wrap around porch and a squeaky swing that the three of them had spent a great deal of time in over the years. Its classic, Victorian style was complimented perfectly by the spruce and hemlock that dotted her front lawn and he'd always felt a sense of peace as he walked under their canopies.

Or he had.

Now, the home's once exquisite facade was tainted and blackened, the warm, fuzzy duckling yellow charred brown, the paint curling like the singed pages of a book, and the remnants of the blaze left to chip away into the dark piles of soot that rested on the ground. The fire had done a number on the house, having completely demolished the den and having damaged the floor above, and though the embers had long died off, an odd sort of ache had taken root in his chest at the sight.

Phil surveyed the damage slowly, tired eyes squinting against the early morning sunlight as he walked the perimeter, his mind conjuring images of his frightened mother as she navigated her way out through the billows of thick, gray smoke and what might have happened had she not woken up.

“Well, I suppose it could have been worse.”

He jumped in surprise, startled out of his morbid thoughts by the sound of Pepper's voice as she stepped up towards him, her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun, her face pinched with worry.

Wordlessly, he agreed and they spent another hour looking at the house, settling a few last minute details on the extent of the damage and the contractors required to fix it before they returned to the car.

* * *

 

“Why don't you stay with one of us until the house is repaired?”

Before he'd even finished asking the question, he knew what her answer would be, but despite her independence, she still surprised him.

“An old friend of mine has offered me her guest room, so I think I'd like to stay and oversee the process, but once it's finished, if the offer still stands, maybe I'll take a holiday to Boston for a few weeks.”

“You know it does,” both he and Pepper relayed at the exact same moment, causing them both to chuckle lightly.

“I know, but it's always good to hear,” she spoke quietly, smiling at them both before pointing her fork accusingly at her son. “Maybe I can finally teach that cat of yours some manners.”

“My neighbor seems to be having some luck.”

Their frowns were immediate, but Pepper spoke first. “What happened to Clint or Natasha? Don't they usually watch Cap when you leave town?”

“Yeah, usually. But it was late and I was already leaving enough responsibility on their shoulders with the shop at such short notice. So it was easier to leave him with Melinda.”

A coughing fit was the only sound for the next few seconds, his mother's still-present coughing having not mixed well with her surprise and a too-quickly sucked down crouton. “Wait, w-wait. Who is Melinda?”

“My neighbor,” he answered in confusion. “I've already said that.”

“You've only lived there two months and you've already left your cat with a neighbor,” Julie repeated, with a touch of wonder in her voice. She paused for a beat. “Is she pretty?”

“Mom!”

“What? I know I just got out of the hospital, but give me some credit,” she grinned, chuckling at his scandalized expression. “You trust easily. Some would even say far too easily, but you'd never leave Cap with just anyone.”

“Of course I wouldn't. I--,” he stopped, his words fading as his mind went back to a few days before. He remembered rambling, remembered preparing to beg if he'd had to, but trust had never been an issue. He'd never questioned her motives for agreeing, her character, or Cap's safety. He'd merely assumed. And even now, after the realization of it, he still felt completely comfortable in having chosen to rely on Melinda.

It was strange, really. They barely knew each other and yet, neighbor sounded odd somehow, as if it lacked the necessary amount of warmth that he'd innately associated with her and her daughter after their first encounter in the lobby of their building.

“So,” his mother mumbled, her eyes glinting mischievously as she took another bite of her salad, “is she pretty?”

Phil could feel the blush spreading across his face. “Melinda is--,” he huffed, suddenly frustrated. “I have a girlfriend, so that hardly matters.”

“A girlfriend that we've never met, by the way,” Pepper supplied, oh so unhelpfully. “So, for all we know, she doesn't even exist.”

“So Tony Stark doesn't exist either, right?”

Pepper spluttered on the sip of water she'd just taken, glaring at him as the color rose on her cheeks just the same and Phil grinned as his mother took the bait.

He stepped away from the table with the intent of calling Audrey, but when her phone went to voice-mail, he shrugged, dialing another, less familiar number. He didn't have to wait long, as after the third ring, Melinda answered.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey! It's Phil. I was just calling to check on Cap.”

There was a sudden, loud squeal of laughter through the phone followed by a quieter, softer version shortly after. _“He's alright, I think. He's chasing Skye around the apartment as we speak. He was a bit restless on the first night, but he calmed quickly enough when I started to make dinner. He sort of just curled up on a stool and watched...It would have been creepy had it not been so cute.”_

Phil could picture exactly how such a thing had played out, as it was a usual event in his apartment, but if Cap was comfortable enough to behave normally then there really wasn't anything to worry about, in his opinion; Cap was in good hands.

_“How's your mother?”_

Her question prompted him to turn around, eyes refocusing on his family as his mother continued to tease Pepper about her love life—much to the embarrassment of his sister.

“She's better than I expected. They released her this morning on the stipulation that she'd take it easy. Since then, she's demanded food and entertainment out the wazoo.”

_“Oh, how barbaric.”_

He laughed, pleased that his sense of humor wasn't misunderstood. “She's okay. They kept her for two days after for observation due to her age and the amount of soot she inhaled, but they felt certain she'd have no lasting effects other than some temporary wheezing.”

_“That's good news. I bet you're relieved.”_

“Extremely,” he mumbled, eyes still watching two of the most important people in his life. “I wanted to thank you again, for watching Cap.”

 _“There's no need. He's been a good house-guest,”_ Melinda reassured. _“Don't worry about Cap, he's taken care of. Enjoy spending some time with your mom and relax. We're fine here aren't we, Skye?”_

_“Yeah!”_

And he smiled.

* * *

It took three more days of contacting contractors and repairmen before Phil finally felt comfortable enough to head home. He'd only meant to stop in for a few moments before heading back to his apartment to collect Cap, but after a few discussions on his mother's well-being with a few different people, employees and customers alike, he was roped into the easy atmosphere that he hadn't realized he'd been missing and after fifteen minutes, he found himself behind the counter helping his coworkers with the lunch rush, bagging cookies and pastries, wrapping freshly baked breads, and boxing cakes as if he'd never been away.

It was two hours later, when the rush had settled and the orders had slowed, that he realized how much time had passed. Cursing under his breath, he pulled off his apron in rush of air and flour and, just as he reached for the nearest hand towel to dust himself off, a flash of dark hair and a jingling bell caught his attention.

“Look, Mommy! Phil's back!”

Skye was a ball of excitement as she hopped up to the counter, her height barely allowing her to see over the top of it despite her eager bouncing.

Her mother followed slowly behind, a small grin on her face as she placed a gentle hand upon her daughters shoulder to calm the little girl. “I can see that.”

But then, Skye quieted, her smile faltering completely. “Wait, does that mean Cap has to go, Mommy?”

“Unfortunately, baby,” Melinda replied, lovingly brushing a stray curl out of her daughter's eyes, her own softening as Skye's face continued to crumble. The little girl was valiantly trying to hold back her disappointment, but his heartstrings pulled taut as her eyes began to fill with tears.

“Hey,” he started, trying to lower his voice to be as soothing as possible. “He'll be just across the hall. You and your Mommy are more than welcome to come see him any time you wish. Just say the words.”

Phil could tell that his words were doing the trick as her eyes started to brighten into that look of pure child-like joy once again, but he could see that she was still disheartened. “And maybe,” he whispered, leaning towards her conspiratorially, though he new Melinda could hear every word, “just maybe, we could negotiate a sleepover at your house for you and Cap sometime.” Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Melinda start in surprise and quickly, he added, “With your Mommy's permission, of course.”

Immediately, Skye's face lit up as she turned towards her mother, her smile sickly-sweet, and Phil got the distinct impression that she'd used it on Melinda multiple times to get her wish. “Please, Mommy? Can we?”

Melinda looked like she wanted to hold out, but she was undoubtedly amused at their conspiring, her grin widening as she looked between them both and, like Skye, Phil did his best to look like a pouting, hopeful child to help their case along. “Yeah, Mel? Pleassssse?”

She blinked at his use of her shortened name, but caved. “Oh, I don't see why not.”

Skye's happy cheer was enough to make his heart feel a bit lighter as she threw her hand up for a high-five, which he returned with all of her contagious enthusiasm, though he certainly didn't miss the roll of her mother's eyes.

“Now that things are settled, tell me, what brings you ladies into my bakery this afternoon?”

“Mommy said I could have a cupcake if I did well in my karate class!”

“You take Karate?”

“Yeah! I'm almost a yellow belt! I have a black stripe on my belt now.”

He smiled at her excitement. “Well, I think that definitely deserves a cupcake,” he replied, sliding right towards the glass case full of brightly colored confections. Almost without thought, he pulled out a chocolate fudge and a lemon crème, grinning at Skye's happy face through the box as she watched. Planting them both gently on the counter, he frowned before turning around abruptly, searching for something, and it was only when he'd added an abundance of multi-colored sprinkles to Skye's reward that he finally pushed them forward.

“You remembered!”

“Of course, I did. I'd never forget such fantastic taste,” he praised with a wink, which earned him a girlish giggle and a toothy grin as she skipped away to a nearby table, her mother's ever-watchful gaze following her every move as she went.

It was only when Melinda turned around, cash in hand, that he realized what she was attempting to do.

“What are you doing?”

The surprise in his voice, was enough for her to lift her head in bewilderment. “To pay?”

“No.”

His blunt response was enough to throw her off, her countenance morphing completely into a look of utter confusion at his tone. “What?”

“I'm not letting you pay.”

In a move that he guessed was unconsciously done, she shook her head slightly as she stared at him, almost willing him to explain. “And why not?”

“Melinda, you just watched my cat for a week and a half, without any prior notice, and the little fuzzball is still there because I got swept away in my work. You are not allowed to pay,” he explained with finality. “For probably forever.”

“Phil, this is your business and how you make money—it's practically your baby. You have to let me pay.”

“I'm far more satisfied with the smile on your baby's face than on the price of her cupcake.”

His honesty surprised even him, but he could tell that what he'd said was enough to make her acquiesce as she stood there slightly stunned. “Phil--”

“Now, what would you and Skye like to drink?”

Melinda made to protest, but with one glance at his face, she stopped with a sigh. “You're just going to stand there until I tell you something, aren't you?”

He nodded dramatically.

She huffed, but he could see just the bare hint of a grin growing at the corners of her mouth. “Green tea for me. Milk for Skye.” And with her reluctant order complete, she headed towards her daughter.

It took him mere minutes to make their selected beverages and to drop them off at their table with a smile as Skye's lively conversation drifted to his ears. He was about to step away when he heard his name.

“Where are you going?”

Turning, he noticed that it had been Skye to call out, but they were both looking at him as they waited for his answer, one with the barest hint of curiosity and the other with a milk mustache.

“I was going to finish cleaning up.”

“Why?”

He laughed at the innocent question. “Because I'm the boss and I'd be setting a terrible example if I didn't clean up after myself.”

She looked oddly perplexed. “You aren't going to sit with us? If you're the boss, can't you make them do stuff just because you said so? Mommy does.”

“But they didn't make the mess.”

Skye nodded sagely, though her exuberance had dampened somewhat. “But, couldn't it wait for awhile?”

She was pouting. His neighbor's little girl was pouting at him, and he really shouldn't have been so affected, but he'd always had a soft spot for kids and this particular child was so damn _adorable_ and it was easy to see that her mother was thoroughly enjoying watching her daughter's well-practiced tactics employed on another victim as she sat there trying to stifling her laughter.

“I'll tell you what,” he began. “I'll go clean up my mess while you and your mommy eat your cupcakes and then when we're all done, you can tell me all about karate. Deal?”

Her grin brightened immediately, in a way he wasn't ever sure he was going to get used to, but it was contagious, as his own smile widened at her evident happiness. “Deal.”

Sealed with a fist-bump, he crossed the bakery quickly with the intent on finishing his duties as fast as possible, but just as he rounded the counter again, he bumped into Clint.

“Who's that, boss-man?”

“Hmm?”

“The beautiful, but oddly scary woman and her cute mini-me?”

Phil glanced back towards them both, taking in their happy, smiling faces.

“They're friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! They're always the best.


	5. Fear and a Fantasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH, it's been so long. Life got busy and crazy and I'm super sorry to anyone reading this.

The sun was still low when he pulled into his spot behind _Sweetie's_. He'd barely made it to the door when Clint's motorcycle took the spot next to Lola, the engine roaring loudly in the early morning silence like the trumpet section in one of Audrey's symphonies.

“What are you doing here so early?” he called just as Clint's helmet came off to reveal his face. He watched as the younger man yawned, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, and Phil shook his head with a grin as he waited for his answer.

“We've got a birthday cake going out today at two and that hell-beast of a bride's wedding cake out at four. Natasha finished all of the decorations yesterday, but it still has to be assembled and your sister, much as I love to tease her, will rip you and I a new one if it isn't finished in time,” he informed as they stepped through the doors, though the reminder was unnecessary—for they both knew them to be unquestionably true. “Hunter is coming in to deliver the smaller one by himself and then he and I will deliver the wedding cake. We might need your help though. It looks like it might be a bit heavy once it's finalized.”

Phil nodded as they donned their apron's, falling easily into their usual routine, warming up the ovens and mixing the doughs for the morning breads and pastries, the two of them having ironed out the perfect steps over the past few years. He'd hired Clint when the boy was barely sixteen and what had started as a summer job to save money for a car, had turned into a permanent arrangement, Clint easily learning the trade and his penchant for detail making him a wonderful asset to the bakery.

Natasha had followed soon after and though Phil hadn't been too thrilled with their developing relationship at first, he had to admit that she and Clint meshed well together, both romantically and professionally, and any reservations he'd had about the two of them had faded with their happy smiles and each beautiful cake that went out his door.

Bobbi and Hunter had been a more recent addition, the latter a complete accident entirely, when he'd backed into a Sweetie's delivery truck after picking Bobbi up from her shift. Hunter had offered to pay for the damage by working off his debt and, somehow, Phil had been stuck with him ever since.

He didn't mind as much anymore...

Natasha, Bobbi, and Hunter arrived shortly after, helping to finish the morning preparations before they opened for the day. For the next two hours, customers poured in, devouring pastries and coffee as fast as he and the boys could make them.

It was only when he heard Clint's call of “Mornin', Little Bird!” that Phil took a peek out front to spot Skye and Melinda. Skye was as enthusiastic as ever as she hopped towards Clint with a smile on her face, her mother following with a smile of her own.

The two of them had become regular fixtures inside of his bakery, Skye having wrapped everyone within around her small, but capable fingers, Clint being the most affected after himself—even enough to dub Skye with a nickname of his own making.

With two blueberry muffins, a small glass of milk, and a green tea in hand, he met Melinda at her usual table, turning to watch as Skye spoke with Clint and Natasha. She was smiling as they talked, as animated as ever, but it was all too obvious that there was something... _off_.

“Is there something wrong with Skye?” he asked, turning to Melinda.

Melinda seemed surprised that he'd noticed, but nodded. “It's the first day of school.”

“She's nervous?” he guessed with a frown.

Another nod. “She puts on a brave face, but she is. I'm afraid she gets that from me.”

He was stopped from answering by Skye's arrival and though she appeared happy enough, she was now radiating pure nervous energy, her tiny body almost vibrating with anxiety.

“Hi, Phil.”

“Hi, sweetie!,” he grinned. “Are you excited for your first day of school? What are you, in sixth grade or something?”

Happily, a small smile grew on her cheeks. “No, silly! I'm only in the first grade.”

“First grade?” he gasped in mock astonishment, “but you look so grown up!”

She grinned, though it faded quickly, her manner growing uncharacteristically shy as she looked down at her shoes. “I'm afraid.”

“Why, baby?” Melinda whispered, leaning towards her little girl in an effort to hear.

“What if they don't like me, mommy? The other kids?”

His heart broke a little at her question, as her bottom lip began to quiver. Melinda pulled her closer, brushing an errant curl away from Skye's eyes as she spoke lowly, “Oh, baby, everyone is going to love you. And if they don't, then they don't deserve your friendship.”

“But what if they don't?”

“Baby, unfortunately, not everyone is as kindhearted as you, but just because someone might not like you, that doesn't mean that it's your fault.”

“What if I do something stupid?”

“You're not _stupid_.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, with a bit more force than he'd intended, much to Melinda's amazement and his own; Skye was looking at him with wide eyes, startled no doubt. He could feel himself flush, as out of place as he found himself to be. “I'll, uh, go clean...something.”

He could feel Melinda's eyes follow him across the bakery as he retreated behind the counter, busying himself while the mother-daughter pair whispered to one another.

“What's wrong with Birdy?”

He turned to find Natasha, concern painted on her features as she glanced across the room at the two of them. “She's afraid the other kids won't like her at school.”

“That's absurd. She's easily the cutest thing I've ever seen. Making friends will be as easy as just sitting in the cafeteria. The kid practically radiates positive vibes—it'll be like flies to honey; she'll be fine.”

Phil laughed, but her words struck a chord, and inspired, he opened one of the pastry cases to pull out his signature Chocolate Chip cookies—perfectly designed to attract more than just flies in his opinion. He boxed a number of them up quickly, eyes watching over the case vigilantly.

He waited until they stood, their hushed conversation seemingly finished, before he rounded the counter. Beckoning Skye towards him, he knelt down to her level, offering the white pastry box up for her to see.

“Now, you have to promise me two things,” he whispered to Skye, looking around as if involved in some secret operation, before reaching around to open her yellow backpack so that he could stuff the cookies inside. “It's absolutely necessary to our mission that you follow my instructions to the letter, Agent Skye. Understood?”

Skye nodded, a spark of curiosity lighting up her eyes. “What do I have to do?” she whispered, barely holding still as he fiddled with the zipper.

“Two things. One, you have to promise me that you'll only eat these after lunch,” he began, though he could see just a hint of indecision in her eyes, “And only with a new friend.”

She looked skeptical, but continued with their charade. “What's two, Agent Coulson?”

He laughed, eyes following Melinda as she tidied up their table. “Simple. Don't tell your mother.”

Finally, she grinned, offering up her hand for a shake. “Deal.”

* * *

 

The airport was crowded, happy reunions and tearful goodbyes in every direction that he could see. Phil was grateful that he was anticipating the former, Audrey's plane from New York due to land any moment and he had the perfect view of her terminal from his tiny cafe table.

“Still a half hour to go,” he mumbled to himself before glancing at the cafe's menu off to his right, eyes landing on their pastry display and a delicious looking cherry turnover.

He'd barely lifted the flaky donut to his lips when a loud, high-pitched squeal caught his attention.

It was an adorable little girl, no older than Skye he'd imagine, racing off across the lobby towards a dark haired man with outstretched hands, her mother following close behind with the same sort of excitement. Upon reaching him, they jumped into his arms laughing, the little girl's happiness, at what Phil assumed was the sight of her father, bringing a smile to his own face. He watched as they twirled in the middle of the airport, the family group hug bringing a pang of longing to his chest.

They were so _happy_.

And he wanted that.

He wanted long walks through the park with a wife, kids, and maybe even a dog of some sort.

'No, not a dog...Cap wouldn't approve,' he thought with a small grin, pulling off a piece of his turnover and frowning at the filling on his fingers.

He'd always imagined he'd have a daughter, brown curls bouncing wildly as they ran through the zoo or through an amusement park, squeals of laughter escaping her at every new animal or attraction they passed.

They'd visit his mother in Rhode Island and she'd teach his daughter how to cook like she had her own son and then, just like when he was a kid, they'd catch fireflies before ending the night on the front porch swing, tired and exhausted, but content. Phil knew he'd be a family-man; knew without a shadow of a doubt that he'd be wrapped around his wife and kid's fingers, desiring only to make them happy and to make them laugh every day of his life.

He wanted all of that. Every single, last piece of it.

His gaze followed the little family to the baggage claim and then out of the terminal completely, hands holding tightly to each other as they swung the little girl back and forth between them, much to her delight.

Thirty minutes passed quickly then, as lost in his mind as he was. He stayed there, unmoving, until the light weight of a hand coming ot rest on his shoulder zapped him out of his head.

“Phil?”

“Audrey?” he replied, dazed at her sudden appearance. Realizing just how long he'd been sitting there, he stood, legs protesting as they tingled sharply, but he hugged her in greeting anyways.

She laughed at the state he was in, accepting his embrace as he enfolded her in his arms, smiling as he whispered a quiet “hello” in her ear.

There was no twirling, no laughter to be heard as they separated, but he was happy nonetheless.

“How was New York?” he asked, still thrown off by her expected, but sudden appearance.

“Oh, Manhattan is beautiful, Phil! Have you ever been?”

“Once or twice, but not recently. It's my sister's future home,” he responded, chuckling a little.

“Future home? Is she planning on moving?”

“Uh, not yet, I'd guess.” He was still laughing, remembering his sister's red face at just the mention of her boyfriend's name, but catching Audrey's confusion, he elaborated. “Pepper is dating Tony Stark. I don't think she's realized it just yet, but I'm fairly certain she's in love with him. She's never been as easy to fluster as she is now. Just his name makes her as red as my Corvette. It's entirely hopeless.”

“Tony Stark as in Stark Tower?” she asked in surprise.

“That's the one.”

“It's a beautiful building and it definitely stands out,” Audrey mused. “Especially at night. Oh, a few of us ate at this magnificent little restaurant right across from it the first evening we were there. Lovely, little Italian place, but for the life of me I can't remember its name. They had the most delicious ravioli with an Alfredo cream sauce that nearly rivals yours. And I'm sure I ate my weight in their garlic bread sticks. Completely to die for.”

“Oh, I'm wounded!” Phil exclaimed, hand coming up to grasp at his chest in mock pain, his stride stumbling a bit as she slapped him on the arm with a grin.

Offering his arm, he took her bags before leading her towards the exit. “Well, it's not my cooking but we have dinner reservations at _Mamma Maria's_ tonight and then afterward, maybe a movie back at my place?”

“ _Mamma Maria's_? How in the world did you get reservations there? I only knew I was coming home today, yesterday.”

Phil laughed. “I made a birthday cake for the head chef a few years back. It was back when I delivered every cake I made and Nick loved it so much, he invited me to stay. He taught me how to make the perfect spaghetti and meatballs that same night and we've been friends every since.”

“Well, you'll have to thank him for me because that sounds fantastic and I'm starving. Lead the way, please.”

* * *

 

It was a few hours later when they returned, the both of them lethargic and stuffed to the brim with good food, Nick Fury's hospitality knowing no bounds. He'd treated them to a plate full of succulent oysters and a full menu with the best wine and desserts, the vanilla bean cheesecake he'd eaten being the perfect kind of nightcap after a meal such as the one they'd just had and they were both warm and full.

He'd just put the key in the lock, jiggling it a bit out of habit, when the door across the hall opened enough for tiny, frizzy headed little girl in pajamas to peak her head out. Skye eyed Audrey a little warily, but offered up a sweet smile as she dashed to him suddenly, her arms wrapping around his legs tightly. Stunned and surprised, it took him a moment to snap out of it, but quickly enough he knelt down to her level, much like he had that morning to return the hug.

“I made friends!”

She was jumping up and down now, practically bouncing in his arms and, if her excitement hadn't been so contagious, he might have grown sad at her surprise.

“But I knew you would, sweetie!”

Skye hugged him again, arms linking behind his head this time, her still damp, wavy hair clinging to his nose. He felt more than saw Audrey finish unlocking the door, but he caught her small, confused smile as she stepped inside his apartment to give the two of them some privacy as little Skye began to ramble.

“Their names are Jemma and Leo and they said they'd be my friends! They both talk kind of funny. Mommy said it was because they have different accents than I do, but I don't know what that means. Fitz—that's Leo—comes from some place called Scotsland and Jemma is from...umm, across some big pond...”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door across the hall open wider, the silhouette behind it this time, larger, but still small in stature. Melinda's smile was a fond one, eyes crinkling in amusement as she watched the scene.

“...they're both in my class and they shared their pudding cups with me. Oh! And they loved the cookies!”

He smiled, giving Melinda a sheepish glance as her daughter mentioned the bribe that was meant to be a secret, but she merely rolled her eyes as Skye's hands flew up to cover her lips.

“Oops. I wasn't supposed to say that.”

Phil was relieved when Melinda laughed. It was light and contagious and a few seconds later they were all chuckling, an abundance of happiness flowing between them, but soon enough, it was interrupted by a tired yawn, eliciting tender smiles from the two adults.

“Come on, baby. It's bed time.”

To be expected, Skye groaned in distaste, but nodded anyways, her eyes drooping as her remaining energy practically faded before their eyes. She turned towards him again, arms squeezing his neck one last time in another loose hug as she said goodnight.

“Thank you, Phil.”

Momentarily bewildered, he asked, “For what?”

“For being my friend, silly.”

Instinctively, he squeezed back tightly, touched beyond measure by such an innocent answer. He was unable to reply, but she didn't seem to need one as she extricated herself from his arms and headed inside.

“I'll be in soon, okay?”

Skye nodded at her mother before stepping out of sight and Melinda waited a few moments before she broke the silence that had fallen over them at her daughter's departure.

“Thank you for the cookies. I'm fairly certain you helped to make her day. You didn't have to.”

Phil smiled. “I know. But she just needed a little incentive.”

Softly, she nodded. “She's been talking about them all day and she couldn't wait to tell you. She's been perched by the door all afternoon.” Melinda paused then, before motioning towards his door. “I'm sorry she interrupted.”

He frowned, turning back towards his apartment, slapping himself mentally for becoming sidetracked, but he smiled anyways, in an effort to reassure her. “No harm done. We were just calling it a night.”

“Well, I should let you get back to it then,” she grinned, her innate playfulness shining through for just a moment. “Goodnight, Phil.”

“Goodnight, Melinda.”

He waited, watching wordlessly as the door shut completely and only when he could no longer detect the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood did he turn and enter his own apartment.

Audrey was sitting upon his couch, a glass of wine in hand with the television down low, some news station broadcasting the latest events around the world as Cap eyed her distrustfully from the kitchen bar stool.

In an offer of appeasement, he fed the poor creature, stroking the fur at the back of his neck absentmindedly. He'd just replaced the stopper in the wine when Audrey called from the living room.

“So, what was that all about?”

“Oh, nothing much. They came into Sweetie's this morning and Skye, the little girl,” he explained, “looked a little green. Turns out she was nervous about her first day at school. So, long story short, I slipped her some cookies with the agreement that she had to share them with some new friends. Turns out that I'm a genius.”

Audrey laughed as she came around the corner, the noise startling Cap somewhat as the feline jumped in surprise at the sound. “That was sweet of you. I'm glad it worked out.”

“Yeah, me too. She's the cutest kid.”

She paused, watching as he pulled a tub of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. “I didn't know you were such a family-man.”

At that, he looked up, the contemplative frown on her face and the odd tone of her voice confusing him, but he brushed it off. “I've always wanted kids. My mom says it's because I never quite grew up myself, but I don't have any idea what she means.”

“Says the man drowning his ice cream in brightly colored sprinkles,” she deadpanned.

“What?” he asked, a look of shock on his face as he took a bite. “I like sprinkles. Do you want some?”

Shaking her head no, Audrey returned to the couch with a smile and he followed soon after, ice cream cradled protectively in his hands. He waited silently as Audrey picked a movie out of his vast collection, some romantic comedy he'd forgotten he owned, that his mother and sister had forced upon him no doubt, but he was distracted long after the movie had started, Audrey's question about children lingering in his mind and it was nearly half over when he finally decided to broach the subject.

“Do you not want kids?”

For a moment, she looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I wouldn't say that exactly. It's simply not on my radar at the moment.”

He nodded, completely understanding, but there was something she wasn't saying that sent up red flags—something that didn't sit right. If he was any other man, he might have pushed the issue, but as it was, she'd just gotten back and he was keen to end the night on a good note and not spoil it with topics best left for another time.

And if his dreams were filled with a smiling little girl, jumping into his arms with a happy giggle as he twirled her around in the middle of the crowded airport...Well—he tried not to think too much about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, leave a review! It's helps bunches!


	6. Angel Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys! Agents of Shield has been really wrecking my motivation lately and I haven't really felt like writing, so I didn't want to post anything until I was sure my writing wasn't absolute garbage, but regardless and even if it takes me awhile, I will finished this story. I don't post a story unless I'm certain it will be finished. =)
> 
> Enjoy! Sorry for the wait.

The past three hours he'd done nothing but bake, testing and tweaking new recipes in an effort to make his bakery a little more festive for the fall season. Pumpkin spice littered his counter, along with his entire supply of cinnamon sticks, and he cringed at the aftermath of his actions as an errant marshmallow rolled off the counter and onto the floor.

Phil sighed, kicking himself internally for allowing himself to make such a mess, but there was nothing for it now as he began to clean up, swiping the ruined ingredients into the trash and salvaging what he could.

He'd just finished wiping up the excess batter off the counter when his doorbell rang and, crossing the room, he smiled at Melinda on the other side, though it faded quickly at her worried expression.

"I need your help."

He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"I tried finding someone else, but my babysitter is busy with work and I'm so sorry to bother you with this, but can you watch Skye tonight?"

He could tell that she was uncomfortable asking for help, as independent as she seemed to be, but it was only after she'd rushed to explain that he realized that she was dressed in light, lavender colored scrubs, her hair still damp from, what he guessed, was a very quick shower, and it dawned on him—that he had no clue as to what she did for a living.

"What do you do?"

If his random question threw her for a loop, she hid it well as she answered. "I'm a Physical Therapist. I specialize in musculoskeletal problems mostly and, usually, it's simply rehabilitation, but I got a call from the ER and their usual consultant is out of town, so I was recommended in his place. Under such short notice, I wouldn't even consider putting you in such a position, but they need me to help determine if surgery is necessary."

He nodded, taking it all in. And he had nothing to do today, so watching Skye wouldn't be a problem. It'd been awhile since he'd taken care of a child, the last time having been a cousin of his a few years back, but he had enough confidence he could figure it out.

Phil smiled as an idea occurred to him. "Hey, are there any foods she's allergic to?"

* * *

 

Forty minutes later, he was parked outside of Rosedale Elementary, leaning on Lola as looked around. It was a beautiful school, decked out in maroon and navy blue and he smiled at the eagle emblazoned above the main entrance, its wings outstretched like a vigilant protector for everyone that passed under. The school he'd gone to across town had been smaller in comparison, but Rosedale was charming in its own right, even more so, when the old, classic bell sounded and children began filtering out.

Phil kept an eye out for the one little girl he knew, watching the door closely for any sign of her as children began excitedly exiting the school in search of their parents. He waited, nearly five minutes having passed since the bell and he wondered if he might need to head towards the door in search of her himself, but just when he'd made up his mind to seek her out, Skye turned the corner and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was escorted by an older woman, probably his and Melinda's age, with dark hair and a kind smile, a smart business suit making her appear older and more severe than she likely was, but he could guess that it was likely due to her occupation.

"Phil!"

He was prepared this time as Skye bolted towards him and he braced himself for the impact of her tiny body as she practically flew into his arms.

"Hi, sweetie! How's my little Agent today?"

He was rewarded with a giggle and a quiet, "good,", but it didn't take long before she began with the important questions. "Where's Mommy?"

"Your Mommy had an emergency at work, so I'm gonna watch you tonight. How's cookies and cartoons sound?"

Her smile widened. "Awesome."

A throat clearing above them caught his attention, and standing up, he offered up his hand in greeting.

"You must be Phil Coulson. Melinda called and said you'd be picking Skye up today."

He nodded, allowing his arm to fall back to his side, only for it be grasped by a much smaller hand wrapping around two of his fingers in a tight grip. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Skye and Melinda's neighbor."

"Maria Hill. I'm the principal here," she explained. "I've heard you make fantastic cupcakes."

With a raised eyebrow and a glance down, he nudged Skye's foot. "You been telling my secrets?"

She smiled, but shook her head no. "It was mommy."

_'What?'_ he thought, completely dumbfounded. _'Melinda talks about me?'_

"To be fair, I asked her for a recommendation on where I could get a set of desserts for the school PTA meeting and she suggested you. Raved on your lemon crème cupcakes really. I was going to stop in tomorrow and see about ordering some."

He was slightly overwhelmed by the praise, but infinitely pleased. "I can certainly help you out with that, though Skye would argue that the Devil's Food is better," he commented, shaking the little girl's hand lightly to get her attention. "With sprinkles, right?"

"Right!"

Her response sent the two adults chuckling. "I'll keep that in mind," she promised, before looking down at her watch, her brow arching in surprise. "Shoot! I'm late. Well, I'll let you two go. I'm sorry I couldn't babysit tonight."

He frowned, confused. "You're Melinda's usual babysitter?"

"Oh, I'm Skye's Godmother. Melinda and I went to college together and we're pretty close, practically sisters. I could tell you some stories," Maria hinted, pausing to smile fondly. "Besides, it's easy for me to watch her, as mine and Skye's day usually ends at the same time. Unfortunately, today, I have a meeting with a group of parents about some fighting fourth graders. So, you guys have fun, okay? Come give me a hug, kiddo."

Skye was eager to comply as she hopped over, giving Maria a kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Auntie Maria."

"Bye, baby. You be good for Phil, alright?"

Skye mumbled out a quick, "okay" before returning to his side, once again grasping two of his fingers between her own and looking up at him with a sweet smile.

Extending his hand once again, "It was nice to meet you, Maria."

She smiled and returned the sentiment, before turning and walking back into the building, waving at them both as she closed the door behind her.

"So, are you ready to go?"

Skye beamed up at him, still holding tightly to his hand, but it slipped into a look of confusion as she glanced at his convertible. "Did you bring my booster seat? Mommy says I can't ride in the car without it."

"Your mommy and I took care of that," he laughed, ushering her towards the car. "You'll see."

A convertible probably wasn't the best car when one considered having a child in the back seat, but the booster seat fit well enough. Melinda had shown him how to fasten it and, satisfied that he and Skye were all set, they set off towards home, Skye happily swinging her feet as she marveled at the shiny fixtures within the car.

"Are we going to your work?"

Glancing at her through the rear-view mirror, "Nope. You and I are going to the store and then home. I thought you might want to help me decide on some new dessert recipes. In moderation, of course. Your mommy would kill me if I returned you on a sugar high."

Skye blinked at him from the backseat. "What's moderation?"

"Oh," he frowned, forgetting for a moment that Skye was only six. "Umm, it means keeping within the normal limits. Does that make sense?"

She paused for a moment, brow crinkled as she thought it over before slowly nodding, apparently satisfied with his description. "Why do you need new recipes? Are they for work?"

"Yes," he confirmed, waiting as a pedestrian crossed the street. "I need some ideas for fall and for Halloween—to help spice the place up."

She perked up a little at the mention of Halloween. "Oh! Me and mommy are going to pick out costumes next week!"

Skye rambled on about witches, princesses, and superheroes all the way to the grocery store, only stopping when he hoisted her out of the car. Once again, her fingers clasped his tightly and he couldn't help but marvel at the feeling as he led her inside, Skye happily skipping away beside him and kicking the leaves that crossed her path.

"Alright, Agent Skye," he began, waiting until her eyes had drifted to his before continuing. "First off, we need the basics: eggs, milk, and butter. Got it?"

"Got it," she answered with an off-kilter salute, causing him to chuckle.

"Then we need to visit the baking section for chocolate chips, flour, food coloring, sugar—both brown and white—and cupcake liners. I should probably get more marshmallows too. What do you think?"

With each item he'd listed off, her expression had grown more concerned as she'd looked around, searching for something. "Agent Coulson?" she whispered, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket lightly.

"What?" he whispered back, fighting off the smile that was threatening to spring up at her serious face.

"I think we're gonna need a cart."

* * *

 

It took nearly an hour to gather all the necessary ingredients, plus a set of Halloween themed cookie-cutters that Skye had fallen in love with—that he'd been hard-pressed to say no to—before they were back on their way, pulling into their apartment building in record time.

"Are we going to your house, Phil?"

"Nope," he informed lightly, watching as Skye began to frown. "We're going to yours and your Mommy's."

"But what about Cap? Won't he be all alone?"

The part of him that wasn't amused, was touched by her concern for his cat, but he and Melinda had discussed that too.

"Do you remember when your mommy agreed that you and Cap could have a play-date?" he asked, already knowing that what he was about to say would make for one happy little girl.

"Yeah."

"Well, today is one of those days."

He watched her eyes brighten as a smile formed on her face. "So he's gonna be with us?"

"Yep. You and Cap can play to your heart's content," he replied, pushing open the door for the both of them. "In fact, I think someone is waiting on you."

Catching his poorly disguised hint, she bounded inside, abandoning the bags on a nearby table as she searched for the errant cat, calling his name and cheering when she found him curled up on the windowsill basking in the afternoon sunshine.

Placing the bags on the kitchen counter, he listened as Skye spoke to Cap, her voice soft and gentle to his fuzzy beast of a feline as she cooed and meowed at him. Of course, traitor that Cap was, the cat meowed back at every sound, seemingly content to remain in the little girl's arms.

"Do cats have their own words?"

Popping his head out from behind a cupboard door, he looked at her quizzically. "Their own words? I'm not sure what you mean, sweetie."

"Yeah," she began, "like you and me and mommy have our own words that we use to speak to each other."

"You mean their own language?"

"Yeah!" she responded excitedly.

For a moment, he thought it over, despite being thoroughly confused at to where she was going with this. "Probably. It only makes sense, I guess."

He'd assumed that his answer would please her, but she suddenly looked crestfallen. "Does that mean he can't understand me when I talk to him?"

"Oh," he floundered, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, but he recovered quickly enough. "Even if he doesn't understand the words, he knows that you love him."

"But, how?"

Suddenly, as she looked at him with her wide, brown eyes, he realized exactly how out of place he was. Skye was intelligent, inquisitive, and curious, and dodging the question would just confuse and frustrate her, but he didn't know what to say. He tried to think back, hoping that something his mother had said to him when he was a child might inspire him, but he found nothing and was left to flounder.

"Well...love is sometimes more about what you do than what you say."

Skye paused and he congratulated himself on a job well done as he turned back, searching for the measuring cups in the unfamiliar drawers and cupboards.

"Why?"

And he sighed, giving up the search for now, knowing that she wasn't going to give it up. "Why what, sweetie?"

"Why is it about what I do?"

He took a deep breath as she clambered to sit on top of the stool, Cap still in her arms, the both of them watching him intently and he resisted the urge to scowl at his cat.

"You see, Skye," he began, willing his voice not to waver with how nervous he was. "Love is universal-"

"What's that mean?"

"-it's worldwide...everywhere. Everywhere you look there's love and even if someone has never felt it, they recognize it in the small things."

"Like what?"

"Take Cap, for example. He sits in your lap, purring away, because he's happy."

Skye looked down at Cap, as if waiting for him to chime in with his opinion. "Why is he happy?"

"Because you're gentle and because you shower him with the attention he needs and so he feels comfortable with you—safe even—because he trusts you," he tried to explain, though he wondered if he was making any sense.

"Is that like when Mommy gives me kisses? Because she loves me?" she asked with a tiny frown as she tried to understand.

"Yep. Exactly like that and you know that she loves you, even if she doesn't say the words themselves, don't you?"

"Yeah, 'cause Mommy tucks me in and reads me stories and gives me hugs and stuff...but not Daddy. It's the same with Auntie Maria and Grandma and Grandpa. That's Mommy's Mommy and Daddy," she informed him lightly, before a shadow of discomfort crossed her face. "I don't have a Daddy."

It was such an odd statement for such a happy little girl and his heart sunk at the certainty of it. He was dumbfounded—completely and utterly confused—and if he'd felt out of place before, then it had nothing on how he felt now.

He was unsure if he should ask her to elaborate as the information hidden in those three words she'd uttered, might not be something he needed to know. Melinda was a private person, secretive—though not because she had anything to hide—but because she preferred it that way; Phil knew that much.

But, as if what Skye had said had been nothing, the little girl laughed suddenly, obviously less affected than he was.

"Okay! Okay!" she grinned, giving Cap a kiss as he demanded further attention and giggling as the cat's cold nose rubbed across her cheek in a return of her affection.

"Now, how about we make some cookies?" he suggested, trying desperately to change the subject before she could jump to another tangent. "Maybe some cupcakes?"

"Is this going to be like when Mommy bakes?"

Confused, he asked, "What happens when your Mommy bakes?"

She leaned towards him, lowering her voice to just a whisper. "Let's just say that there's a reason Mommy buys a cake from you on my birthday."

* * *

 

For the next two hours they baked, getting flour and sprinkles everywhere, trying out cookie cutters and frosting colors to go with each new flavor, eventually deciding on a pumpkin spice cookie with caramel infused frosting in the shapes of bats, pumpkins, and ghosts to give it a bit of a festive flair. Skye had even come up with the brilliant idea of a smore inspired cupcake after regaling him with the story behind a photo of she and her mother on the fridge and, though it took a few tries, they finally nailed down the perfect marshmallow topping to pair with a crushed layer of graham crackers in the liner.

A yawn signaled that it was dinner time, so he made chicken nuggets with what Skye dubbed "adult mac and cheese" and upon finding The Nightmare Before Christmas in Melinda's movie collection, they settled down quietly, Skye falling asleep somewhere in between Jack's discovery of Christmas Town and the kidnapping of Santa Claus.

Phil smiled softly at the sight as he pulled a blanket off the back of the couch to cover her with before heading into the kitchen to clean up their massive mess just as Cap took up watch at the end of the couch.

He turned at the sound of a key in the door nearly thirty minutes later, smiling at the sleepy face that emerged from the other side. Like him, Melinda smiled at the sight of her daughter fast asleep on the couch as she crossed the room to place a soft kiss on Skye's forehead, before toeing off her shoes and heading into the kitchen.

"Hey," she whispered, a yawn following shortly after. "Did she give you any trouble?"

"No. She's an angel, really. Probably the most well-behaved kid I've ever met," he relayed, smiling when she nodded in thanks. "How was work?"

"Hard to say, I suppose," she began, eying one of the cupcakes on the counter. "It was a car crash, a severe one, and though the patient survived, he might not walk again without surgery."

"That bad?" he asked, slowly pushing the cupcake across the counter at her.

"He had a compound fracture in his left femur and, best case scenario, he'll have to learn to walk again as I'm sure his muscle memory has been altered, but with rehabilitation, he should be fine in the long run. It might take a few months though, unfortunately."

By now, he'd nearly reached her arm with the cupcake and, squinting at him suspiciously, she picked it up with a smirk before taking a bite. She moaned at the taste of the cupcake, licking her lips as the frosting stuck to the corners of her mouth and he looked away, heat seeping into his cheeks.

"I haven't eaten since this morning and this is delicious."

"It was your daughter's idea," Phil informed her as he frowned at her words. "There's still some dinner left if you'd like some. I always seem to make extra, so there's plenty."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," Melinda commented, polishing off the last of her cupcake, but she frowned slightly, before chuckling at him. "You've got a hand print on your shoulder."

"A what?"

She laughed again. "In flour," she informed, reaching up to dust it off of his shoulder. "I'm going to guess it's from all of the hardcore baking my kitchen saw today." She smiled at him softly as their eyes met for just a fraction of a second. He ignored the fluttering in his stomach as she dropped her hand back to her side, moving to fix herself some dinner.

He finished cleaning up as she ate, the credit songs for the movie playing in the background, the familiar tune only interrupted by the many yawns between forkfuls of his mac and cheese.

"Sorry," she apologized, looking mildly sheepish as she pushed her plates away. "It's been awhile since I've been stuck in an ER for so long. I'm a little rusty I guess."

"No need," he reassured quickly, moving to take her empty plates. "You've had a long day."

"No, Phil, please," Melinda implored, gesturing to the dishes. "I can do my own dishes. You've already done enough for me today. I mean, hell, my kitchen is spotless and there's no doubt that you cook better than I do."

Laughter bubbled up his throat, her words reminding him of Skye's own less than subtle comments from earlier that afternoon.

"What's so funny?"

Melinda was squinting at him suspiciously as she pulled two wine glasses down from the cabinet.

"Oh, nothing."

She looked unconvinced, but let it go as she passed him a glass, to which they both took a long drink as they settled at the island counter-top.

Phil's attention was averted to Skye as Cap crawled up onto her stomach to sleep, the little girl shifting to wrap her arms around him in a hug. His mind drifted back to her earlier comment and, unconsciously, he must have left his features slip.

"Something wrong, Phil?"

"I-." He stopped, unsure of how to broach the subject. "Skye said something earlier that I'm slightly concerned about."

Melinda nodded, waiting patiently for him disclose whatever he heard as she swung her foot lightly, much like Skye had this afternoon in the back of Lola.

"She asked me how Cap knew that he loved her, if he couldn't understand what she was saying," he began, once again amused by Skye's innocent question. "I explained that love was sometimes more about actions rather than words, that the little things were sometimes more important and I think she understood for the most part. I hope I haven't overstepped any boundaries."

Melinda smirked, looking at Skye once again. "No, you haven't, but that's hardly a cause for concern. What else did she say?"

How she'd known there was more, he had no idea, but he pushed on. "She told me that she knew you loved her because you tucked her in at night and gave her hugs...but only you, Maria, and your parents...because she doesn't have a Daddy."

For the first time since they'd met, Melinda looked completely uneasy as she spoke next. "She said that?"

He nodded. "She didn't expand on it and I didn't ask her to, but I wanted to let you know."

She sighed deeply, before standing suddenly, going back to the wine rack and pulling out another bottle, refilling their glasses before returning to her seat. "I'm gonna need more wine."

"Melinda, you don't have to tell me why. It's not something I need to know."

"No, Phil, it's alright," she reassured as she took a large swig of her drink. "It's a rather short story anyways."

Of course, he was curious, but again, he was torn. His neighbor, though friends they were, was still very much an enigma and, it was likely, that if she'd not been forced to ask him to babysit, that they'd not be having this conversation as it was. It was obviously unpleasant, as Melinda was tense, her posture stiff as she looked at him. He could see the anger, mixed with something like resignation, that she wasn't bothering to hold back—perhaps it was the familiar surroundings or simply her acceptance of the situation—but it was there, probably just as strong as the day the events had happened.

Clearing her throat, she began. "If you're expecting some extravagant tale of love gone wrong, then you'll likely be mistaken, because the short of the matter is, is that he simply...left."

_'What?'_

"He left?"

She nodded.

Astonished was probably too strong a word, in his opinion, but it was all he could come up with, circumstances as they were.

"We met in our third year of graduate school and hit it off well enough. I wouldn't say I loved him, but after a while it was comfortable, in the sort of way that it became routine. To this day, I'm still not sure if he felt anything more for me that just affection, but I didn't realize that until after."

"After what?" he asked, soaking in the information, no matter how terrible the subject matter.

"We went to the wedding of one of our mutual friends shortly after graduation, had a bit too much to champagne and stumbled back to our apartment together."

Melinda paused, again looking towards Skye with a small smile on her face.

"I found out about Skye shortly after the morning sickness began. I hadn't been planning on any children so soon, but I was elated. I'd always wanted kids and I could take care of myself, so I was happy."

He could imagine it well enough. It had been just Melinda and Skye for as long as he'd lived in the building at least, perhaps even longer, though he was unsure of how long exactly. Skye was a happy child, there was no doubt about that; her laughter was infectious and her grin so bright, that he knew that Melinda's happiness, even alone, was as abundant as her daughter's, even if it didn't show as readily upon her face.

"But he wasn't happy. He was an ambitious man, I'd even envied him for it once, but he was livid, even argued that I'd done it on purpose to ruin his future or some nonsense," she told him, her voice having lost some of its conviction as the story progressed. "One day, not long after I got pregnant, I came home to find his things gone—without a word. And that's the end of it."

Phil was stunned. _'How could anyone leave the mother of their child to raise their daughter alone?'_

"Skye knows that the other kids have both a Mommy and a Daddy and she wonders where he is or if he's out there, but I don't have any answers," she whispered, eyes downcast as she focused on the counter-top, before they flickered up to his own with a glint as cold as ice to permeate the sudden sadness. "How do you tell a six year-old little girl that her Daddy didn't love her enough to stay?"

He moved to say something—anything really to lighten the mood, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "He's never met her—doesn't deserve to, but every once in awhile she says something, like she did tonight, that makes me wish he'd stayed. Just for her. Maybe someday, I'll tell her the truth, when she's older and can understand, but I can't take the risk of her blaming herself by thinking that she wasn't good enough."

They sat there like that for awhile, completely silent as he filed away the information. He stayed until Melinda carried Skye to bed, a quiet support after such a harrowing conversation, but Melinda seemed grateful for the company as she returned, amused as he insisted on helping her clean the last of their mess, despite her protests.

Elbow to elbow they worked, for merely a few minutes at most, but he stayed until whatever gloom that had settled over them was long gone, until her yawns had come back with a vengeance, and until she was smiling again.


	7. Hurt/Comfort

He woke quickly to a flash of lighting, the white, piercing brightness illuminating the room with an eerie glow and startling him out of his sleep. The thunder that followed was ominous, the sound rattling the glass fixtures in his room and sending his heart racing frantically away in his chest as he lay in bed.

As a heavy sleeper, it was unusual that a storm could wake him, but his body and mind were now fully alert, both suffused with a thick tension as electricity filled the air, the staccato rhythm of his pulse only matched by the steady thump, thump of an agitated tail against his arm.

Phil stretched as he reached for the animal, his palm coming down to pat gently against Cap's side in an effort to soothe him, but the cat remained rigid, its unblinking eyes focused on the curtain as if he could see the rain beyond.

"It's alright, bud. It's just a storm."

His words were punctuated with more quick flashes and he flinched, closing his eyes against the strobe-light affect that threatened to blind him.

For nearly an hour, he tried sleeping, but he couldn't relax, his body poised for battle as if Thor himself were descending from Asgard, mjolnir gripped tightly in his hands and ready for a fight. Cap, too, was uneasy, as he paced the end of the bed listlessly, an uneasy whine escaping his throat with each consecutive crack of thunder.

Begrudgingly, he threw the covers off and padded into the kitchen, flipping the lights on as he went, in a desperate attempt to lower the strained atmosphere in the room.

Phil poured himself a glass of water, drinking deeply of the clear, refreshing liquid as the storm continued to rage on outside, paying no mind to the uncomfortable occupants within the fourth floor apartment.

It wasn't long until the torrential downpour quieted, but he waited until he could feel his eyes growing heavy before he stood to make his way back to bed, Cap weaving between his legs as he rounded the couch. He'd barely taken two steps when an unexpected, loud crack of thunder split the air, sending him into complete darkness and startling the cat and himself, as both the thunder that followed and Cap's shriek of fear was enough to force Phil back instinctively—straight onto a tail—and in an unconscious effort to step off as fast as possible, he tumbled backwards over the arm of the sofa.

The side of his head connected hard with the edge of the coffee table, sending his empty glass off the top to shatter completely against the hardwood.

It was, again, completely silent, save for his groans of pain, the storm having grown eerily calm in the ensuing commotion. Phil was dazed and dizzy, his head swimming as he rested, wedged awkwardly between the sofa and the table. Sitting up was difficult in his groggy state and it took him a few minutes to crawl onto the sofa, a few shards of glass sticking into his palm uncomfortably.

His head was pounding and it was only made worse when the power flickered back on, blinding him temporarily.

_Phil._

He rolled over, pulling a pillow over his face to dull the knocking in his skull.

_Phil!_

There were voices in his head, dull but present and he couldn't shake the feeling that he should have been paying more attention, but he was growing sleepier by the minute.

_"Phil, it's Melinda. Please, open the door!"_

"Mel, my head hurts," he whispered into the pillow as he covered his ears.

"Phil, please!"

The pain didn't ease, but his faculties were returning to him slowly, enough so that he could truly distinguish her voice and the urgency within it.

He stood slowly, his knees wobbly and in an effort to stop the room from spinning, he grabbed at the nearest object to steady himself, but he winced when the glass in his palm drove deeper, the pain piercing through the lingering fogginess as he stumbled towards the door.

Phil swung it open, perhaps a bit too fast as he rocked on his feet, but he paid it no mind as, suddenly, there was a hand on his arm, steadying him. The warm hands that went to his cheeks were smaller than his own, but surprising in their strength nonetheless. They were gentle as they probed his scalp, fingers searching for something, though his brain couldn't make out what, but he hissed all the same when she found a tender spot just to the side of his right temple and he jerked away in surprise.

"Hey, hey, look at me," she ordered, voice filled with a soft concern, and, unwilling to upset her further, he did.

He had no idea what he looked like to her at that particular moment, but he watched silently as she tiptoed up to get a better look. Despite his uncertainty as to why he was supposed to, he stood as still as he could manage, taking in her pursed lips and her crinkled brow as she fussed, but before he was even aware of her movement, she'd let go of him and crossed the hall, throwing her own door open before she began clicking her tongue.

Cap came hurriedly, running across the hallway and into Melinda's apartment and Phil swayed on his feet at the blur of movement.

In an instant, she was back at his side, her hand grabbing his and lifting his arm across her shoulders in an effort to support his weight and, slowly, she began walking him out of his apartment and towards her own.

"Don't move so fast, Mel," he slurred, pouting at her pace.

Melinda carried him to her sofa, easing him down into the cushions carefully before running into her bathroom to grab the necessary supplies. She was back before he could really take notice of her absence and gently, she lifted his head until she could settle it on her lap.

He followed the finger that was lifted in front of his eyes dutifully as it was waved back and forth, but as her hand fell, he became more interested in the way her eyes scanned his face, his own doing the same as she continued to fuss over him.

Soon enough, her hands were back in his hair and he sighed contentedly, watching with wide eyes as she searched for what he guessed was a wound of some sort, pulling out an antiseptic and some bandages to keep it clean. He stared up at her as she worked, taking in every change in her features as she concentrated. He tried to reach up, to feel whatever it was she found so interesting, but she slapped his hands away with a soft bout of laughter.

"Stay still, I'm almost done."

He nodded, completely ignoring her words as he yawned, but he let her finish without further complaint as his eyes grew heavy again. He wanted to sleep, the pain having dulled somewhat but despite it all, he felt warm and—comfortable.

Phil could feel his eyes closing as her hands ran through his hair and he struggled to stay awake, his eyes tired but determined.

"Sleep, Phil."

Her voice was hushed, as if she'd whispered it in his ears, but she hadn't moved. He licked his lips, trying to speak over the cotton in his mouth. "Hey, Mel?"

"Hmm?"

She continued to card her fingers across his scalp lightly as she waited for him to continue.

"You're pretty," he admitted softly as his eyes closed. "Beautiful, ya know?"

And as he finally succumbed to sleep, he was too tired to notice that her hands had stopped moving.

* * *

 

He woke slowly to the sound of hushed laughter and he groaned against the noise as he rolled over into the vaguely familiar, flowery smelling pillows.

Wherever he was, was comfy, and, undeterred by his own confusion, he had no immediate desire to leave, despite the distant sounds of pots and pans being moved around and the hum of a television nearby that agitated his aching head.

_"Fuck."_

A round of girlish, high pitched giggles met his ears and finally, as if water had been splashed down his back, it dawned on him exactly where he was.

Opening his eyes, he was met by a pair of wide brown eyes staring down at him intently from across the arm of the sofa and he cringed at his language.

"Mornin', Phil," came Skye's quite voice and he wondered if Melinda had told her to whisper or if she'd just assumed it on her own, but either way he was grateful.

"Mornin', Skye," he replied groggily, and though his head still hurt, he was no longer dazed and confused as he sat up gingerly, his neck protesting the movement as he stretched. Looking around, he frowned. "Where's your Mommy?"

"She went to get you some medicine for your head. She said you'd need it." Skye paused then, a frown to match his own on her face. "Does your head hurt?"

Phil smiled at her concern. "I'm fine, baby. Just an accident. I'll be good as new with some rest for a day or two."

Just then, Melinda returned, some over-the-counter pain medicine in her hands. "And that's exactly what you're going to do today."

"Relax?"

She nodded as she stepped back into the kitchen. "You hit your head pretty hard and I'll bet you've got the headache to match," she guessed, smiling at him sympathetically. "You don't have a concussion, but that fall was still pretty nasty and the first thing they'd tell you in the ER is that you need to be monitored."

"Does that mean he needs to be watched, Mommy?"

"Only for his safety," Melinda called.

"Mommy is good at that," Skye whispered close to his ear, brow crinkled in thought. "She has eyes in the back of her head."

Phil snorted, smiling at the little girl now perched on the arm of the couch.

"I heard that," Melinda called, to which his and Skye's eyes widened as if they'd been caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar.

"And fantastic hearing," he whispered back.

"I heard that too."

They jumped, having not realized the woman in question had walked back into the room without a sound, startling them both. She held a glass of water in her hand and offered both it and the medicine to him and ordering him to drink.

"Thank you for helping me out last night. Honestly, it's all a bit foggy."

"I didn't do much. Just made sure you wouldn't need stitches and that you wouldn't bleed to death, but it looks worse than it is."

He smiled. "Still, thank you, but I can't impose on you guys. You've done enough already."

Melinda waved away his concerns. "I've got no appointments today and I'd merely planned on spending the day here with Skye, watching movies or cartoons. You're more than welcome to stay. In fact, I'd rather you did with an injury to your head like that."

He thought it over, content in the knowledge that Clint could run the bakery effectively in his short absence. His head still hurt, the area around the cut tender and, though he wouldn't call it a true concern, he knew that rest was what he needed after a spill like that.

"Well," he began, standing up slowly and groaning as his body cracked uncomfortably. "At least let me make breakfast then?"

Skye was probably just a tad bit too excited at the prospect, but all were pleased with the arrangement.

"We should probably re-bandage your hand, though, if you intend to cook."

He was confused momentarily, before a slow flex of his fingers shot a stinging sensation up his arm and he frowned at the white gauze he'd forgotten all about.

After calling Clint to let him know he was in charge and Melinda swapping out his bandage, Phil made his way to the kitchen, his body a little stiff and, though his head was throbbing, he was in a better mood than expected as he searched through the now-familiar cabinets. Upon finding an assortment of fruit and some crème cheese, he decided on crepes and set to work as Cap took up residence at the counter, as per usual, purring as Phil rubbed that perfect spot behind his ears.

He could see the two of them, Skye's head on her mother's lap as they watched tv, the familiar sounds of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck drifting through the apartment to mix with the sounds of their laughter.

It was maybe ten minutes later when Skye crawled up on the stool next to Cap with a piece of paper in one hand and a number of colored pencils in the other. "What are you making?"

"Some strawberry-banana crepes."

"What's that?"

He smiled. "It's like a fancy, filled pancake. French food."

"It smells yummy," she informed him, breathing deeply with a grin on her face, before turning back towards her drawing and selecting a blue pencil.

"What are you drawing?" he asked, trying to peek over her arm as she showed Melinda the picture.

"No! You can't see yet!" she told him, covering it further. "It's a surprise."

Holding his hands up in surrender, "Okay! Fair enough, but how come she gets to see it?"

"Because she's Mommy."

He found himself rolling his eyes at her meager response as Melinda laughed, but, satisfied that he'd given up on looking, Skye went back to coloring, the two of them keeping an eye on him diligently as he flipped the crepes and declared them finished.

"I don't have any coffee, but I've got orange juice and green tea, if you'd like."

"Orange, please," he replied, placing a plate in front of Skye carefully. "This might be a little hot, okay? Blow on it a bit first just in case. I don't want you to burn your tongue."

Dutifully, she did as told and ate slowly, a few "mhmmm's" slipping out here and there between forkfuls. "It's so good. Thank you, Phil!"

Melinda echoed her sentiments exactly. "We should hire you as a private chef."

"I'm more than happy to cook for the both of you any time," he laughed, "I'll even throw in my famous home-made chili next time. Hopefully, I won't have to hit my head."

They smiled around forkfuls of pastry, Melinda clearing her throat first. "How is your head, by the way? Still sore?"

Melinda was watching him carefully, for any sign he might be in pain, but, surprisingly, he felt fine. Better than fine, really, once he thought about it. Yeah, his head was tender no doubt, but he hadn't realized that at some point, it had stopped throbbing completely.

He'd forgotten all about it.

* * *

 

Phil entered his own apartment sometime after dark, after a full day of cartoons, movies, and pure shenanigans. For nearly half an hour earlier that afternoon, he and Skye had discussed the finer points of a pillow fort made out of ordinary pillows or couch cushions, but in the end, they'd only succeeded in demolishing Melinda's living room, though she truly didn't seem to mind. Eventually, they'd compromised on the fort, the sides made from couch cushions and the top made from the throw pillows and blankets within reach and, to his amusement, they'd even talked Melinda down into the fort with them for a short while.

Melinda's worry had seemingly dissipated, for the longer he'd remained with no signs of any serious issues or pain, the less concerned she'd appeared as she was laughing just as much. Though, if it was with them or at them, he didn't know.

Phil smiled at the still-fresh memory as he let Cap slip from his hands to the floor. His own apartment lacked the homey feeling that his neighbor's so easily possessed and the difference was stark after spending the whole day across the hall; even Cap seemed slightly out of sorts as he parked himself in front of the door to sleep.

He was halfway through brushing his teeth when a soft knock on his door caught his attention and, toothbrush still in hand, he returned to it, frowning at the white paper that had been slipped under the gap that Cap was pawing with a certain amount of confusion.

"What is it, buddy?"

Strangely enough, the cat merely began purring, his head and body connecting with the wood softly in random bout of affection.

Bending down, he decided that, from what he could see, it looked like a note that a crush in grade school might have passed, but there were no hearts drawn on the outside of this one—just his name, in colored pencil.

He opened it slowly, his bewilderment blooming into a warm, sharp sort of feeling in the middle of his chest.

It was a drawing of Skye and himself, her smaller figure sitting atop a kitchen stool with what appeared to be a cookie cutter in one hand and Cap in her lap with his paws reaching towards a cookie at the edge of the counter. His own figure was standing just to the left, his arm extended out as if showing her the best way to get the most treats out of the dough.

And they were smiling.

The picture itself was beautiful and incredibly detailed despite Skye's young age, but it was the words below that made his heart swell.

_Baking Buddies_

_Love, Skye_


	8. A Turn of Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long! I had to completely redo my plan, as my original one had some issues I just didn't enjoy and this chapter has been rewritten at least three times. Hopefully you guys haven't forgotten about this story.

Hectic might have been the biggest understatement for how his day was panning out and he groaned at the work that was left to be done as he absentmindedly rubbed at the still healing wound on his head.

Another set of storms, stronger this time, had rocked Boston and though Sweetie's hadn't been the hardest hit by any stretch, she'd still taken some damage. Water had seeped into the basement, shorting out two of Phil's biggest freezers, one full of key ingredients and the other full of unfinished cakes. Unfinished and, now, _ruined_ cakes.

An understatement, indeed.

Under the blanket of stress that had settled over them, he'd closed the store front, pulling the blinds down against the outside world and the slowing rain, boarding up the few broken windows before retreating to the back to regroup.

“Do you think we can get the orders done now? We're easily a week behind schedule at this point, more if we don't have anything to make them with.”

Clint was exasperated, understandably so. Being the one to have discovered the mess, he'd taken on a certain amount of guilt that Phil had both tried and failed to alleviate.

“We'll have to start over. There's nothing else we can do. We should have enough ingredients until the next shipment arrives in three days, but as far as the cakes? Call each customer, confirm the date and time of delivery. Maybe we'll get lucky and someone will push an order back a bit. If not, we'll just have to deal,” he sighed, running his hands over his face tiredly. “Any cakes due over the next few days will have to be remade and delivered day of. I'll start mixing up some batter and--”

“Natasha and I can handle the cakes and Hunter can keep delivering what wasn't ruined, while Bobbi starts making the calls. She's the best with customer service and most of our clients have dealt with her directly. In the meantime, we need some freezers.”

“But it's Nat's day off, I'm sure she has plans—”

“I've already called her and the others, they're on their way.”

Phil must have looked dumbfounded, because Clint just chuckled. “What? Did you think we'd leave you here to stay late and do it all on your own like you would have insisted?”

Before he could make a reply, he heard the bell on the front entry jingle, and sure enough, not ten seconds later, his whole team walked in to survey the damage. They'd brought a few friends he vaguely knew—Phil could imagine that Clint's distress call had warranted a second wave of reinforcements—and he welcomed the help.

“We've got this handled, boss-man,” Clint informed him, smiling despite the hard work ahead. “No need to thank us.”

He'd think of some way to thank them, definitely. How, he had no idea, but he'd find something--when all of the mess had been dealt with and _Sweetie's_ was back in business.

They started with the water, with mops, buckets, and industrial steam cleaners to go around. Everyone had fallen into a groove, the minutes ticking by and the damage disappearing under the care of a half-dozen pairs of hands.

Bobbi had managed to contact the majority of their clients that had cakes going out and he was surprised to learn that most were willing to wait, though if that was because his cakes had a wonderful reputation or because most of the outdoor weddings and events in the area had been canceled as well, he didn't know.

Even still, it took three hours for Phil to find replacements for his freezers and even longer to convince the manufacturer to agree to deliver in two days time. The weather would keep them from delivering earlier and Phil groaned at the implications.

 _'It'll be a week, at the least, before I can open again,'_ he thought, hands running through his hair in agitation. The shrill ringing of his phone pulled him away, Audrey's face appearing on his screen and he managed to mumble out a meager greeting.

“Phil? Are you okay? I saw the news.”

He could hear instruments in the background, coupled with laughter and he was glad that she seemed to be having a better day than himself.

“I'm alright. I can't say the same for my bakery, but she should be up and running again soon if I have anything to say about it,” he chuckled humorlessly, his head beginning to throb uncomfortably. “Will I see you later?”

“Oh, I'm not sure. Our pianist is retiring after twenty years and his party is tonight. We've been planning it for weeks and we're all loath to cancel it because of the weather, so I think we're gonna power through.”

He'd forgotten about that. They'd been planning it for half the season as the man had changed his mind multiple times on his retirement date, but it seemed he was finally committing to the decision.

Phil sighed, barely concealing his disappointment. He'd been hoping to see her, but he understood and he said as much, though the conversation did little to improve his mood.

It was around noon when the day finally looked up. They'd managed to remove the majority of the water damage, though the burned out sockets would have to wait for the electrician later in the week. He'd even decided to hire a contractor—in the hopes that the next time Thor called forth the rains, that _Sweetie's_ would be as prepared as possible.

He was just about to call time for lunch, when a rapid knock at the door stopped their progress. Frowning, he pulled open the door to find Melinda, arms full of pizza and her face hidden by the many boxes in her hands.

“Hi, Phil!”

At Skye's voice, his grin was automatic and he quickly moved to let them pass, the six year old skipping happily inside, two boxes of her own gripped tightly in her hands.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“The news is showing all of the damage. Skye saw this place and had a fit. She wouldn't calm down until I agreed to come see you, so we decided it would be best to bring all of you lunch...I hope you haven't eaten,” she explained, frowning as if the idea hadn't occurred to her, but Clint was quick to dissuade her, lifting the boxes out of her arms with an all-too eager.

“No! We haven't and we're all starving. Right guys?”

There were murmurs of agreement and thanks from everyone gathered and, immediately, the tension lifted as the food was passed around, everyone pulling chairs and tables together haphazardly in the wrecked front room as if the damage had never occurred.

“You didn't have to do that you know.”

Melinda smirked as they found their own spot. “I figured that between all the cleanup, you'd forget about food. Odd, considering you're a chef, but at least this way, I can make certain you eat.”

He blushed under her scrutiny, but nodded at her observation with a chuckle. He often forgot to eat when he was working, no matter how many customers he'd given their own plate to.

“Plus, Skye was concerned.”

His eyes scanned the room until they landed on the little girl, her attention on some ridiculous story Hunter was certainly retelling for the millionth time. Yes, no doubt, Skye had been concerned, but he questioned whether or not coming down to Sweetie's with food had been her idea.

“Just Skye?”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He didn't know why he'd asked but it was too late to take them back as Melinda's eyes widened just-slightly, her eyes locking on his as he began to back-track.

“I'm sorry--”

“Mommy! Look, isn't it pretty!?”

Phil breathed a sigh of relief at Skye's interruption, but Melinda's eyes stayed unerringly on him for just a beat too long before her gaze drifted down to her excitable daughter.

“What is it, baby?”

As Skye lifted the blue-green glass up for her to see, Phil's stomach dropped.

Sea-glass. Skye was holding sea-glass.

Immediately, his eyes had flew towards his mother's mural. Despite every other issue they'd dealt with today, he hadn't considered that the hand-made logo had suffered any damage, but he was saddened to find that he was mistaken.

Pieces of blue and green and red glass were either cracked or missing completely. They were small holes, the cracking plaster beneath not easily visible to anyone save himself, but to him they were gaping and he could see every imperfection.

It was a blow he hadn't expected and despite his broken freezers, his water-damaged floors, and his ruined cakes, this one hurt the most.

“Phil?”

The others hadn't noticed, still eating and laughing and he was grateful, but Melinda was observant. Even little Skye was looking at him quizzically, still holding the smooth piece of sea-glass carefully between her fingers.

“I'm okay,” he mumbled, though he didn't miss the tiny scrunch of Melinda's eyebrows. “It's stupid really, but my mother made it.”

Despite it's meaning, the mosaic did nothing to keep his business running, it didn't stop orders from being delivered or cakes from being made. It had no purpose, save for aesthetic, but it was important—to him.

“But can't we fix it?” Skye asked, scrambling up into the chair next to his.

That was a good question. Finding pieces that would fit correctly would be difficult enough and it might take more than one trip to the beach before repairing it could even be attempted. And he'd have to look over the whole design, get rid of the broken pieces that hadn't fully been dislodged. It would take time.

And an artistic flair he didn't have.

But it would be fixed, even if he had to re-plaster the entire thing and go find the sea-glass himself.

“Will you be okay?”

It was Skye that had spoken, but both she and her mother were waiting on his answer. Undoubtedly, he would be, but Skye wasn't so easily mollified by his quick reassurances.

“I'm sorry it's broke.”

The poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears, but both he and Melinda were able to comfort her and, soon enough, she was bouncing between the tables once more, her laughter ringing out as she went.

“So,” Melinda began as they wrapped up lunch, “It's still early if you'd like an extra pair of hands. Well,” she corrected, looking at her daughter, “a pair and a half.”

“Oh no,” he began, surprised by the offer, though he couldn't fathom why. They practically shared a cat as a result of her generosity after all. “I couldn't ask you to--”

“Phil.”

Perhaps it was her tone of voice or the direct, hard look she was giving him again, but he acquiesced readily enough, eager to have the added help to get Sweetie's back on her feet.

And so, once again, they all took their places: Clint, Natasha, and Hunter taking the back with himself, Bobbi, and Melinda taking the front, the latter keeping a watchful eye upon her rambunctious fledgling.

Melinda had taken pains to explain to Skye that she needed to be careful and ever willing to help, he'd procured a set of gloves that prevent any injury. They were much too large for her tiny hands, but Melinda was grateful nonetheless. After sending the girl off towards the counter with Bobbi, broom in hand, they started with the bigger issues like righting tables and picking up the larger, more dangerous debris and glass that still littered the store front.

Melinda, he knew, wasn't much for speaking but the giggles coming from behind the counter were enough to entertain them. He was happy to find that he and Melinda worked well together and the silence was comfortable—easy even—as they worked side by side until the sun had begun to set.

It was shortly after when they all called it a day, everyone saying goodbye and shuffling out one by one with the promise of returning the next day.

“Mommy,” Skye asked, turning to Melinda, “is it time to go?”

Melinda sighed, smirking at her daughter before swiping her thumb across a dirty cheek as Skye squirmed. “Almost, baby. It's getting late so why don't you go find your coat?” she suggested, eyeing the darkening sky outside. “You need a bath and we still have to make the walk home.”

Skye looked like she might protest and he chuckled at the scowl on her face at the mention of bath-time, but did as she was told.

“Walk?” he asked, confused. “You guys walked here?”

Melinda nodded. “It was unseasonably warm today and the walk isn't too far. I figured we'd stop for dinner along the way.”

She was right. Despite the recent weather, it had been rather warm today, but it was nearing the end of November and soon enough, if not already, Old Man Winter would rear his ugly head and neither of them would get sick on his watch if he could help it.

“Then, as a token of my eternal gratitude, you must allow me to take the both of you home.”

A glint of amusement ran through Melinda's eyes. “The chivalrous Agent Coulson to save the day?”

He flushed at the mention of his and Skye's little game, but he nodded all the same. “What kind of agent would I be if I didn't offer? Besides, Agent Skye is my partner after all.”

By now Skye had returned, her excitement obvious. “Mommy, can we? Lola is so cool!”

Phil smirked as Melinda's smile faded into a look of confusion. “Who's Lola?”

* * *

 

It took nearly half an hour to close up the shop and just about the time they were set to head out, another knock came.

“Audrey,” he started, surprised at her arrival as he pulled open the door for the second time that day. “What are you doing here?”

“I left the party early and decided to come see you,” she explained, giving him a sweet kiss before it fell quickly into a frown.

“What happened to your head?” she asked, fingers tracing the now fading line lightly.

“Oh, I fell,” he replied lamely, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “Melinda had to patch me up.”

He motioned to where she and Skye were sitting, the latter watching the exchange between the two adults with an avid curiosity.

“Oh, I didn't know you had company.”

He introduced them as he explained, momentarily forgetting that though Audrey had seen Skye, she'd never met her mother. “They came to help with the cleanup. It was a madhouse earlier with everything to figure out.”

Audrey nodded, taking in the information. “Where is everyone else?”

“Clint and I decided to call it a day and everyone else took the hint shortly after.”

“Obviously, not everyone,” Audrey mumbled under her breath, causing him to glance at her sharply as Melinda did the same.

It was an unexpected turn of events. Audrey was sweet and mild-mannered and, though the words themselves had not been vicious, her tone was enough to put him on alert. Melinda, too, by the looks of it, as the earlier ease that had occurred between them had vanished, replaced by a tense set of shoulders and a blank expression. Even Skye's disposition had changed, her cheerful manner losing out to confusion, though he doubted that she'd understood the slight barb.

Something was... _off_.

“Can we talk?” he asked, turning to Audrey, and as she agreed, he led her back behind the swinging door and into the kitchen. “Are you alright?”

It was a simple question, designed to soothe in case he was imagining things, but Audrey sighed before running her fingers through her wind-tangled hair.

“Yes, I'm sorry. I had every intention of having a fantastic night, but our new pianist was invited to meet everyone, to smooth the transition, but he's...”

She trailed off, unable to think of an appropriate description.

“He's...?” he prompted.

“I don't know,” she admitted with a whine. “He spent half the night ogling me and the other half trying to buy me a drink, so I feigned a headache and left. It ruined my night and my mood. I should have just helped out here, I'm sorry.”

Phil was unsure if he was relieved or annoyed, but he settled for the latter, rubbing her arms in what he hoped was a comforting manner as she gathered herself.

“I should apologize to your friends. It was rude of me to have to said such a thing,” she admitted, the guilt beginning to eat at her. “Will they be upset?”

He didn't know. Melinda was kind, but she hid herself behind layers of masks and a dash of mystery. Phil had no doubt that she would forgive her for such a small slight, but Melinda and Audrey had never met before tonight, making the barb even more unexpected.

“They'll be fine,” he reassured, hoping he was right as he pulled her close to place a kiss upon her forehead and he chuckled when her stomach growled. “Have you eaten?”

“A few bites here and there, but I'm starving.”

“Well, Melinda and Skye walked here and, as a thank you, I promised to take them home, but after that I'm all yours.”

Despite her night, she smiled. “I could meet you at that wonderful Asian place down the street?”

“Deal.”

With that decided, they returned to the front of the store much better than they'd left it, but the feeling was brief. His bakery was silent, Melinda and Skye's having left without a word, their absence leaving both this bakery and himself feeling—empty.

* * *

 

It was a little after ten when Phil returned home. He was exhausted and looking forward to nothing save for a good night's rest before the next days business, but as he pushed his door open wide, he was stopped in his tracks by his name, whispered and distinctly child-like.

And _familiar_.

“Phil?”

Turning, he smiled at Skye as she peeked out of her door, the soft, warm glow of the lamp just inside illuminating her face just enough for him to see that she was smiling. “Hi, sweetie.”

She abandoned her post by the door, running towards him and hugging him with a sleepy grin. “Hi.”

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” he asked, taking note of her pajamas, eyes crinkling in amusement at the tiny dragons and blossoms on her _Mulan_ pajamas.

Glancing back at her door, she whispered again, placing her fingers over her mouth in an effort to shush him. “Mommy is asleep.”

“Then why did you sneak out here?” he asked, confused as to why she would deliberately disobey her mother.

“I want a cake,” she replied, like her late-night request was completely normal.

He blinked. “Baby, it's a little late for sweets--”

“Not for me! For Mommy.”

“For Momm--” he asked, not following her train of thought. “Why do you need a cake for your Mommy?”

“'Cause it's her birthday soon and she always gets me one on mine. Will you help me? Please?” she asked, bouncing on her feet in anticipation. “I can pay with my piggy bank.”

Oh and if that didn't just melt his heart.

“Alright,” he told her, pulling out his tablet as he sank to the floor to lean against the wall. She sat down right next to him, watching as he pulled up a notepad.

“Okay, what kind of cake would your Mommy like?”

“Something fruity.”

“Like what?”

Skye thought for a moment, fingers stroking her chin in an effort to come up with something. “She likes berries a lot, but I don't think it will matter.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Mommy was talking to Auntie Maria on the phone. She said that whatever you make tastes like heaven. I'm not really sure what she means, but it must be good right?”

He laughed, trying desperately to taper it off when she shushed him. “Okay, what about a coconut cake with berries and cream? Maybe something like this?” he suggested, passing her the device to see the picture.

It was a white-cake, with a blueberry and raspberry filling, but Skye just shook her head no. “Too much frosting. Mommy says too much frostin' could mess up a perfectly good cake. It's why she likes cupcakes so much. Something 'bout balance, but I stopped paying attention.”

He paused for a moment, mentally altering his search in a different direction. “What about one of these then?”

This time, when he passed her the tablet, it was a picture of what the baking world called a naked cake, with so little frosting on the outside that you could easily see the cake beneath. It looked rustic, but beautiful in its simplicity and Skye was quite taken with the idea.

“Can it have flowers on the top, like that one?” she asked pointing to a similar picture with a set of sugar flowers on the topmost tier in a wide set of colors.

“I don't know...” he hedged, trailing off.“You might have to sweet-talk Clint or Natasha into making them, but I'm sure we could work something out.”

Not that they'd argue. They'd find Skye's idea as adorable as he did.

“There has to be a daisy, so that she knows it's from me! They're my favorite.”

He smiled at the random bit of information, but agreed, knowing that he'd have agreed to anything for such a perfect request.

“And a pretty candle sticking out of the top, so that Mommy can make a wish.”

“Oh, yeah?” he replied, already thinking of designs and colors in his head.

“Mommy says wishes are magic. That wishes are the first step to having your dreams come true. I think she got it out of a Disney movie, but it sounds pretty,” she shrugged, focused completely on the screen and oblivious to any of his quiet laughter.

For the next quarter of an hour, they ironed out the details with hushed laughter and contagious yawns, until Skye was dozing against his shoulder and, only when she was satisfied with the outcome, did she finally agree to go back inside and, more importantly, to sleep.

“Off to bed with you, Daisy.”

“Okay,” she yawned, placing a kiss on his cheek as she stepped away. “G'night, Phil.”

She was nearly on the other side of the door when he managed to speak through the sudden lump in his throat.

“Goodnight, baby. Sweet dreams.”

He waited until he heard the lock click before he allowed the tired, happy smile to grow on his face as he sat there in the darkened hallway, completely at ease with the world in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's Chapter 8. I hope it was enjoyable. =)


	9. Cake and Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crappy chapter title, but hey it's 2am and that's the best I can do.
> 
> I've probably driven Sym nuts by now, but she assures me this chapter is adorable...So, Enjoy!

It had taken eleven days to get his bakery open again. After all of the repairs that had needed to be made, he'd begun to wonder if he'd ever serve another customer again. Clint had called him dramatic, but it had felt like a lifetime.

The windows had taken the longest to have fixed, but after their delivery everything had quickly fallen into place—all except for his mosaic, which he was still lamenting over. But, despite that, his new freezers were larger, able to hold much more than the former two, and Phil had even talked the electrician into adding a few more outlets, allowing him to utilize a previously unused corner for a decorating station.

Which is where he was currently having a meltdown.

“You want some help with that?” Clint asked for the hundredth time.

Phil sighed. Melinda's cake, per Skye's heart-felt request, was currently in progress, but he'd have been lying if he'd said it was going well.

“No, thank you.”

Clint looked skeptical, but acquiesced with a nod and a smile before clocking out and heading home, leaving Phil alone within the bakery with just his misery to keep him company.

Phil had taken it upon himself to finish this one on his own, as his own personal project, and he'd been adamant that no one assist him, but he'd been at it for hours now. His first attempt hadn't had enough berries and so he'd scrapped it in favor of starting over. The second batch, he'd accidentally dropped the bottom-most tier and he'd watched helplessly as it crashed to the floor; he'd spent half an hour alone cleaning the crumbs out from under his work station. This, now, was his third attempt and he was praying that the old adage of 'third time’s the charm' would hold up against his evident bad luck.

Phil stopped, grounding himself before beginning with his mental checklist. _'Let's see what we've got left.'_

“Flour?” _Check_.

“Eggs?” He searched about the tabletop, pulling the few he had left out from under a carelessly thrown hand towel. _Check._

“Yogurt?” He scratched his head, unsure of the last time he'd even seen one of the containers. They'd had a lot of catching up to do after the storm and, despite a shipment arriving only two days before, they were running low on a lot of key items.

He'd successfully managed to locate the vanilla bean, the salt, baking powder; he even had enough heavy cream for a few more attempts, but still no yogurt. It wasn't a necessary ingredient, but he'd found over the years that it curbed the sweetness to a thick, cloying frosting and he tended to use it in most of his fruit based cakes, as the fruit was often a source of a more natural sugary flavor. It was just a bonus that the frosting wound up creamier as well, in his opinion.

But this had to be perfect. And so, yogurt.

After making a quick trip down the street to a local grocery store he started again, covering the four circle pans with a layer of butter and flour. He expertly combined the dry ingredients before moving onto the wet, blending until the mixture was smooth and ready to bake. Sliding them all in the oven, he set the timer and moved on to the filling, grabbing lemons and raspberries as he went, adding sugar and water and just a dash of cornstarch until it reduced.

The filling finished just in time for him to pull out the cakes in all their golden-brown glory, but they'd need to cool before he could carve out the sizes he'd need and, so in the meantime, he busied himself with the frosting.

He was completely in his element as he started on the old recipe, going through the motions as his mind wandered.

"What if it's too sweet?" he asked himself, hand slowing mid-stir. _'What if Melinda hates it?'_

Hate was a strong word and he scolded himself for being foolish as he added the vanilla bean to the bowl.

It was an absurd idea, really. Over the course of their friendship, Melinda had never once turned down any of his creations and he had a sneaking suspicion that she was in possession of a very healthy and frequently abused sweet-tooth. And he trusted Skye--trusted that her inside information about what Melinda enjoyed was sound, but the doubt still lingered.

_'But what if she's disappointed?'_

Not everyone enjoyed his food, he knew. As vast as the world was, it was ridiculous to believe that they would, but the idea of Melinda's disappointment weighed heavily on his shoulders. Melinda wouldn't lie to him, wouldn't hurt his feelings intentionally, but her emotions were often unreadable and just the slightest hint of her displeasure would send his own spiraling down into the ground for a crash landing.

And Skye. His poor Daisy.

Unquestionably, Melinda would put on a happy face for her daughter, but Skye would know. Skye was inquisitive and brilliant and there was no doubt in his mind that Skye would pick up on her mother's displeasure.

Briefly, he regretted agreeing to make this cake, having expected it to be a walk in the park, but then he recalled Skye's pleading face, her big doe eyes as she'd asked him to do so.

Phil sighed.

"There was no way I'd have said no. Not to that face," he admitted, grumbling."Oh, you're such a sucker. Maybe Clint is right."

It was unusual for him to be this nervous, but this was for Skye--for Melinda--and failure was simply unacceptable.

He worked well into the evening assembling Melinda's cake, the small two tiered masterpiece lacking only the decorations he'd promised before he called it a night. His stomach was growling for attention and he contemplated calling Audrey for a late dinner before thinking better of it. He'd told her earlier that he was working late on a client's order that had grown more difficult than they'd all anticipated and while it wasn't technically a lie, Audrey had been less than pleased any time he'd mentioned his neighbors. Phil doubted she'd be happy to learn that he'd spent the better part of a whole day fulfilling a special request for the both of them. Audrey would think it was odd if he didn't mention his work and he had no desire to lie, so he trudged home alone to end the long day with Cap as his only bed partner.

* * *

 

The next morning he let Clint and Natasha run the place as he retreated back into his corner and away from all of the noise and usual bustle.

He needed to concentrate.

Skye had slipped him a hastily scrawled note that she'd carefully tucked away within the folds of a Captain America pencil sketch, labeled _Top Secret_ and addressed to Agent Coulson, that Maria was ordering take out for the group of them and that the cake wouldn't be needed until around dinner time.

According to Skye, it was always a low-key gathering with no more than the three of them total. She insisted that Phil would be welcome and, though his curiosity had only escalated, he maintained his decision to leave it as a family affair.

Phil simply hoped the cake would live up to Skye's expectations.

Shaking off his anxiety, he began on the small assortment made of gum paste, the only requirement being Daisy's daisy. She'd given him no other instructions for the rest of the sweet bouquet and for a moment, he floundered.

_'What kind would she even like?'_

After a moment, he shrugged. Over-thinking things wasn't getting him anywhere, so he let his fingers do the work as he began with a few daisies, the flower serving as his little chef's perfect representation.

It had been quite some time since he'd made something so delicate and his first attempt was not exactly uniform, but it didn't dampen his spirits. He made two others before he switched to a lily, a Stargazer for its color and beauty, which was much more difficult and intricate, but he managed well enough.

"You know," Clint mumbled, with a wide smile already in place. "We could still help you with that."

"No, I've got it," came Phil's distracted reply, his attention solely fixed on the piece of gum paste in front of him that was slowly beginning to resemble a blush colored rose. "Thanks, though."

He completely missed Clint's amused shake of the head, the movement only catching Natasha's attention.

"You think we should tell him?"

Natasha merely gave a roll of her eyes. "Nah, he'll figure it out eventually."

* * *

 

The cake was practically weightless in his hands as Phil ascended the steps towards their apartments, praying that he wouldn't trip on air or his own feet as he neared the door.

It was his understanding that Melinda, Skye, and Maria were already inside and, quickly, he ducked inside his own apartment to discard the cake box. Cap looked mildly offended at his swift departure, but with a quick promise that he'd return shortly, he stepped back out into the dimly lit hallway.

It was ridiculous to be this nervous. He was just delivering a cake. Albeit a very important cake.

_'Snap out of it, Phil,'_ he thought, a chuckle escaping him at the childish laughter that filtered through the red door labeled 403.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked lightly, listening as the music was turned down and the whispers began.

_"Who is that?"_

Melinda's voice was wary and he could picture the look she was giving Skye and Maria as the little girl giggled, refusing to give up the surprise even as he stood outside their door.

As it swung open, he blinked against the harsh light, but smiled at Skye as she grinned up at him and the cake in his arms. She ushered him in quickly before she beckoned him down to her level and he smirked as she appraised it, her brow knit together and her face one of complete and utter seriousness. He waited with bated breath as she paused, but he was relieved when her expression melted and her beautiful grin made itself known again.

"It's perfect!"

She dashed into his arms, nearly rocking him and the cake onto the floor as she said her thanks. His heart seized in panic, but he somehow managed to right them both and the cake before a disaster could occur.

"What's perfect?" Melinda asked, stepping out of the kitchen with Maria to see what the noise was all about.

“The cake, mommy!”

“What cake?” If Melinda was surprised at his appearance, she didn't show it, but she quickly realized what all of the fuss was about as she took in all his hard work. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips and he would have been blind to miss the curiosity swimming in her eyes.

“Happy Birthday, Mel.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink and her voice thick with some unnamed emotion, but she shook it off, rolling her eyes at him playfully. "But you guys didn't have to get me a cake.”

“Oh, I didn't,” supplied Maria, glancing between them both with a smirk. “That's between your resident baker and your daughter.”

“What is?” Melinda asked, her eyes lingering on him before it swept to the little girl in question to seek out an explanation. “Skye?”

Skye immediately grew sheepish under her mother's gaze. “You get me a cake on my birthday, so I thought you might want one—to make a wish. P-phil helped me pick it out. I tried to pay, but he said no and I don't know if it will be any good or if you're gonna like it, but--”

Phil could only watch as Melinda's confused expression turned soft as she looked down at her daughter. Passing off the cake to a surprised Maria, Melinda enveloped Skye in a tight hug, kissing her cheeks until the girl let out a series of high-pitched giggles.

He looked away as they spoke to each other, only to grow rigid at the unanticipated feeling of Melinda's arms around his neck. His face grew warm as he relaxed, somehow managing to return the hug despite his suddenly foggy mind. It wasn't a quick, friendly embrace like one might have expected from such a private person, but he didn't have long to ponder it as the scent of her shampoo, a scent he couldn't place, infiltrated his senses.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her warm breath against his ear sending a shiver up his spine.

Phil couldn't recall making a reply, as distracted as he was, but Melinda didn't seem to need one and if he'd been shocked by her hug, then he was floored by the delightful feeling of her lips against the stubble on his cheek as she pulled away.

Neither of them had realized that they were alone, still standing in the doorway to her apartment until Maria and Skye stepped back into the room, the lone gold candle adorning the top of Melinda's cake blazing as they broke into a silly rendition of the birthday song, much to the birthday girl's embarrassment.

Phil joined in without much thought, the familiar words flowing unconsciously along with the others, but he was far more focused on the beautiful way the firelight danced across Melinda's beautiful features and of the way her laughter sent a rush of warmth to settle in his chest.

Somehow, they'd gotten him to stay. He'd protested at first, but Melinda had silenced him with a look and a slice of pizza she'd passed his way.

Turns out, all his fears were for nothing. Melinda ate two pieces of his cake before he'd even made it through one, even going so far as to lick the frosting off of her fingers, much to everyone's amusement.

And he'd been worried.

Maria regaled them with stories of the renowned prankster that was Melinda May, telling story after story from their college days until Skye was sleeping against his shoulder. Maria called it a night shortly after, wishing Melinda one last "Happy Birthday" as she went and, soon enough, it was just the three of them left.

“Could you grab her?” Melinda asked, voice low to avoid waking her daughter.

Phil nodded, picking up his tiny agent carefully. Skye shifted in his arms and he held his breath, but she merely buried her nose into his shoulder before grabbing a handful of his shirt tightly between her fingers as if she was afraid he might slip away. He followed Melinda quietly down the hall and into the pale yellow bedroom, waiting as she moved the covers back so that he could gently put her down.

He excused himself to the kitchen as Melinda tucked Skye in, busying himself with the task of cleaning up as he waited for Melinda's return.

“You don't have to do that, Phil.”

He turned, smirking at her as she moved to his side. “I know, but you've still got another three hours before your birthday is over, so count this as another present.”

She looked like she might argue, but thought better of it. Instead, she reached inside the cupboard, pausing she looked at him.

"Wine or scotch?"

Phil weighed his options quickly, choosing scotch for this particular celebration. He was surprised when she pulled out not one, but two tumblers to pour a few fingers for the both of them.

"A toast," he began, raising his glass and grinning as she raised a delicate eyebrow in question. "To you and another happy year. May it be filled with an abundance of laughter, a few good drinks, and--"

"Good company," she finished, smirking at him as she raised her glass to meet his.

He ducked his head at her words, flushing as he downed the amber liquid quickly. She wasted no time in doing the same, before filling their glasses again.

The alcohol served to relax them both and they found themselves rambling on about nothing as the night progressed.

He discovered that Melinda preferred scotch to wine, though both were sufficient when she was in the mood.

She hated coffee and, despite the disgusted look that crossed his face at her words, he delighted in her easy laughter and her argument that tea would always be the superior beverage.

Purple was her favorite color, he was surprised to learn, and he teased her for her love of the darker shades within the color wheel.

_'Especially since that pink shirt she's wearing looks lovely against the blush on her face.'_

He was minutely more prepared for the hug she gave him when he shuffled out hours later. It left him feeling giddy, for reasons he didn't quite understand, but was content to blame on the alcohol as he wandered back to his apartment.

Finally crawling into bed, Phil sighed as he relaxed back into the cushions.

"To be fair," he whispered, glancing at the orange tabby that was glowering at him in displeasure, "I didn't know it was a lie at the time. I thought I'd be right back."

Cap just blinked at him from the foot of the bed, obviously still put out, but Phil was far too happy to regret any part of his day. As Cap came closer, Phil scratched behind his ears as he whispered out his apologies.

"I'll make it up to you in the morning, I promise," he told the cat, smiling as Cap let out a satisfied purr.

His mind wandered as he reflected on the evening, back to Skye's excitement and Melinda's laughter. He allowed the memory to lull him to sleep, his last thought of the embrace they'd shared.

_'Apples,'_ he decided. _'Her hair smells like apples.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've stared at this chapter for so long, so please forgive any mistakes. And please review! I love reviews!


	10. Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, it's been what? A year? I never meant to take a year hiatus, so I apologize to those who followed/are still following this story. I lost all sense of where this story was going and I suppose that regrouping took longer than I'd expected. Hopefully, this chapter will set up what's to come the way I intended and I can get the ball rolling again.

Before he could blink, the cold had settled over Boston. Snow was falling rapidly, piling up faster than powdered sugar across a French Quarter Beignet; it might have been beautiful if not for the thick layer of ice and mud that lined the sidewalks just outside his bakery door.

Phil winced, bracing himself against the cold blast of air that accompanied every patron that entered _Sweetie's_ , the chill raising goose flesh as it swept the room, but, like him, everyone seemed grateful for the warmth once they'd settled inside.

He waved at the little white haired couple that had visited every day since he'd opened, a piece of apple crumble clutched between her shaky fingers and cheesecake in his. Sometimes, they did nothing but laugh, their heads bent low and their attention only on the other. Other times, they said nothing at all, content to simply bask in each other's presence as the world went on without them—even on those days, their hands were always clasped, always linked tightly together as they paid everyone else no mind.

Phil smiled wistfully.

Thanksgiving had come and gone, marked only by the delicious turkey his mother had made and her insistence that it was time to meet his girlfriend--she'd never been one to beat around the bush, his mother. Even now, Phil couldn't understand why the thought had made him pause, why his hands had grown sweaty, or why he'd stood, rigid and tense by Audrey's side as his mother had embraced her. Pepper had reassured him that Audrey was lovely and that the awkward silence that had permeated the room, was nothing more than Audrey's shyness coupled with his own nervous jitters, but he had his doubts.

After driving Audrey home, he'd returned only to find his family looking at him curiously, his mother's eyes glowing in amusement.

"This came for you why you were out," she'd said, holding a large card out for him to take. It was easy to tell that it had been made by the unskilled, but excited hands of a child and he grinned knowingly. It was a charming piece with its abundance of gold, red, and orange glitter and the hastily scrawled penmanship across the front cover. Phil assumed it was a turkey he was looking at, with its sparkly, off-kilter tail feathers, but the affect was somewhat lost in the crazed look on its face, courtesy of the googly eyes that had been glued there.

A strong rush of affection hit him square in the chest, even before he opened the card to find Skye's scribbled signature alongside Melinda's neat cursive. Phil could just imagine Skye bugging her mother until she'd agreed to sign--there was no match for his little agent when she was on a mission.

Even still, his mother and sister had looked at him strangely, but said nothing. Though it was clear, even to him, that they'd wanted to when he'd stuck the card on his fridge without a word, right next to the drawing Skye had given him ages ago.

_'So what if one of his best friends was a six year old?'_  he thought with a shrug. Skye was honest, her happiness contagious, and he only wished that he could be as carefree as she was. But, most days, there was something nagging at him, gnawing at his gut in a way that left him feeling anxious and even Skye's bright disposition wasn't always enough to make him forget.

“Phil! Look!”

Looking up from his mess of flour and dough, his grin was immediate upon spying Skye with her pigtails dusted in snow and bouncing behind her as she ran around the bakery counter, to thrust something glittery out for him to see as her mother followed behind, a grin already in place.

It was an ornament from what he could tell, in the familiar shape of a pink and white cupcake.

“What's that for?” he questioned, wondering why it was of such importance as he nodded at Melinda in greeting, his distracted mind taking note of the slight tinge of pink to her cheeks as she watched.

But Skye merely giggled adorably. “For the Christmas tree, silly!”

_'Of course it's for a tree, Phil. You're an idiot,'_  he chastised himself before trying again. “But why a cupcake?”

For all of his fumbling around, her answer was quite simple. “Because it reminded me of you obviously," raising one eyebrow in the exact way her mother would have at his stupidity. "Mommy and I pick out new ornaments every year for our tree. She says it's special and that I should always get an ornament that stands for something good that happened this year.”

“Oh--” he breathed, dumbfounded, but thoroughly touched. “And it represents me?"

Happy that he understood, Skye nodded eagerly, her head bobbing up and down rapidly as her mother looked on with a somewhat intense expression.

“I couldn't find a Captain America shield at the store, but I liked this one.”

Without even waiting for his response, she skipped into his arms for a brief hug he barely had time to return before she was switching subjects, completely unaware of the emotions he was struggling with. “What are you making?”

Looking down at his forgotten, half-finished cookies, he cleared his throat.

“Needed a few more cookies to last us the evening, so I decided to make another pan,” he told her, glancing back at Melinda at the register, who was no doubt glaring at Clint for refusing to take her payment, the latter with his hands in the air, but refusing to surrender. Phil rolled his eyes at their antics before turning back to Skye with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Wanna help?”

Immediately, she was back around the counter, begging Melinda in their shared plight. He could hear Melinda's whispered words that she had work to do, but he was desperate for a dose of Skye's happy exuberance to counterbalance his unsettled mood.

“I've got a laptop if you need to finish some work,” he interrupted, flashing Melinda a boyish grin. “And a wifi password if you need it.”

Her glare was now firmly planted on him, with one of her brows arched higher in question as Skye glanced between them both, eyes hopeful.

“Please, mom?” he asked, refusing to laugh even as Melinda's facade cracked and the corners of her mouth quirked up in amusement.

“Fine,” she conceded, “but I want that password for my phone as well and keep the hot chocolate coming. And maybe some of those cookies too when the two of you have had your fun.”

After whoops of joy and a couple high fives all around, that only earned a large eye roll from Melinda, Phil quickly retrieved his laptop from his office after giving Melinda the agreed upon information. He set her up next to a window in the back where they were working, in perfect view of the two of them, but well enough away from the immediate hustle and bustle of his employees.

“Come on Daisy, let's make you a baker.”

It was almost comical when he draped her in one of the bakery aprons, the normally knee-length cloth reaching Skye's sneakers; even tightening the clasp that looped around her neck couldn't keep the fabric from falling forward, but Skye was content with his efforts as she wrapped her braids in a much too large hair net, sticking her tongue out at him when he laughed as it drooped in her eyes.

Grabbing a step stool, she settled in at the counter as she awaited his instructions.

It was a new experience to teach a child, but Skye was an avid learner as she helped to crack the eggs and to measure the sugar out perfectly. Of course, that didn't stop them both from making a mess as Skye's elbows were covered in a mixture of dough and powdered sugar, with a streak of flour across one rosy cheek.

More than once he caught Melinda watching them with a smile on her face, before she'd turn away to focus once more on her work. Idly, he wondered if she was getting any work done, because like him, she seemed to be more interested in the peals of laughter coming from his work station than any true task she may have had to complete.

“Come on, Skye,” he urged the little girl after they'd rolled out their finished dough, pulling out a bin of nearly a hundred possible choices, “pick a cutter.”

“Any of them?” she asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Is it okay if we use two?”

Phil nodded, watching as she dug through the bin to pull out a Christmas tree and a pointed star, the latter his favorite.

Midways through cutting them all out, he changed topics. "Skye, do you and your mommy like Italian food?"

Wrinkling her nose at the odd question, she nodded. "Mommy likes noodles with that white sauce, alfred or somethin'."

"And you?" he asked chuckling, already wiping the powdered sugar off his hands and dialing the number for the bistro down the street, with the idea of a late lunch in mind.

"Spaghetti!"

"Good choice."

They were well on their way to finishing when the food arrived. Phil could feel Melinda's eyes on him from across the room as Clint delivered the food to her table, but he kept his head down as his coworker explained that the cost had already been taken care of. Skye herself seemed content to watch him work between mouthfuls of pasta after her quiet thanks. Taking the cookies from the oven, he set them aside, making sure to set them well away from his little baking assistant before he moved on to another task as they cooled.

"What's that for?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.

"Fondant, right?" asked Melinda, as she abandoned her post by the window to take a look.

Phil nodded at Melinda's question. "For an 8 year old's birthday party."

"Why's it so...white?"

He laughed at the poorly hidden disgust in Skye's voice. "Well it won't be when I'm finished. It's going to be two shades of blue, but I haven't added the color yet."

"Oh," she breathed, the relief in her voice evident as she twirled another forkful of spaghetti, nodding as he pulled out a vial of food dye labelled cerulean. "Much better."

"I'm so glad you approve," he laughed, shaking his head. Turning to Melinda, he echoed his question from earlier. "So...you wanna help?"

She seemed confused and then downright horrified at his inquiry. "Oh, no. I have no creative bone in my body."

"Come one, Mel. It's easy and Clint is busy with another cake," he hedged, knowing that Clint would help in a heartbeat but not wanting him to. "I just need you to lift the other side so that I can set it down evenly."

Melinda looked skeptical. "That's all?"

"Cross my heart," he promised, dragging his index finger across his chest with a smirk.

He'd certainly meant for it to be all, but as they covered the first tier, he managed to talk her into doing the next and before long, she was cutting out small fish and circles in shades of green, white, and purple fondant without him having to ask. "What are these for?"

"Scales," he replied. "It's supposed to look like a mermaid."

Again, she looked skeptical. "Not exactly a Christmas cake."

"Not really, but her favorite movie is The Little Mermaid, from what her parents tell me. Here," he began, stepping behind her as he overlapped the dots in the way a fish's scales would be. "The white ones we'll paint silver and gold for a little variation."

Melinda, "hmm'd" in agreement as he explained, but her hands had stopped moving, her body tensing, and it was only then that he realized just how close the two of them were as the scent of apples filled his nose for the second time. Quickly, he stepped back but could neither hide his blush or the small rush of elation that filled him at the sight of her own pink stained cheeks.

He brushed it off, the idea that she might have enjoyed his proximity leaving him even more confused than before they'd stepped into his bakery.

They continued on in silence, but he couldn't help but notice that the air had grown thicker and that with each punched out circle or fish, Melinda grew quieter. Quicker than any of his trained employees, she had finished her task with unmatched precision that would have given even Clint a run for his money, and was gathering their belongings before he could get a word in edgewise.

"It's getting late and Skye's got practice early in the morning, so it's probably best that we go," she began, eyes focused everywhere but him.

He moved to open the door at the same time they reached the threshold and not reacting fast enough, he bumped Melinda's shoulder, causing one of her shopping bags to tumble to the floor and he watched as a shining, brightly colored object rolled across the tile.

Like Skye's, the ornament was newly purchased and while it was certainly to be used for Christmas, the sight of the striped, ginger cat haphazardly wrapped in a string of colorful lights was enough to leave him reeling.

_'If Skye's is the cupcake, then the cat must be...'_

His thought trailed off as he turned to look at Melinda who was doing her best to look unaffected, but was obviously embarrassed as she took the bauble from his hands.

_"Mommy and I pick out new ornaments every year for our tree. She says it's special and that I should always get an ornament that stands for something good that happened this year."_

For a minute Melinda lingered as if there was something she wanted to say, but changed her mind, choosing instead to whisper a soft, "Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful."

In the next moment they were gone and as he turned back to his workstation, with the intent to finish his cake, he couldn't help but feel as if his motivation had walked out the door with them.

* * *

 

Returning home that evening, Phil frowned at the dirt trailing a path across his wood floor as Audrey flitted about, her arms full of vibrant gold and red tinsel. The Douglas Fir had been delivered a few hours before and, in her excitement, Audrey had ripped into the boxes immediately, eager to decorate for the season.

Cap had retreated onto one of the bar stools, watching from a distance as if she was a madwoman; even the empty cardboard boxes and shiny garland couldn't entice him down from his safe perch.

Their first Christmas. That's what Audrey had said.

And she was happy.

_'Why am I so...not?'_ he wondered aimlessly, his head beginning to pound with the first signs of a migraine.

Perhaps it was because she'd insisted they start a new tradition, with new baubles, new colors, and a tree that looked nothing like the one he'd grown up with. He'd never seen so much red and gold in his life and his frown only grew deeper with each added inch of glittery adornment.

Or maybe it was because his favorite ornaments, such as his popsicle stick reindeer from third grade with the red felt nose or his hand painted, puzzle piece picture frame that still held his first grade photo within it's green, mock leaf border, lay in a box in the closet, untouched and forgotten as Audrey added more to the tree. His past, his history, mementos of how he grew up—packed away.

Cap looked as equally appalled as he was, Phil noted.

Anyone else would have been excited, he knew. Christmas meant new beginnings, new promises...a glimpse of things to come, but he was confused, suddenly unsure if what he was seeing was the future he needed—or wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know how I did!


End file.
